


Body and Soul: The Endgame Fix

by DrRJSB



Category: Black Widow (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Incredible Hulk (2008), The Incredible Hulk (Comics)
Genre: Autistic Bruce Banner, Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Bruce & Hulk Interaction, Bruce Banner Feels, Bruce and Hulk need therapy, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Endlame, Endshame, F/F, F/M, Fix-It, Hulk (Marvel) Feels, MCU Fix-it Fic, Merged Hulk, Multiple Personalities, POV Bruce Banner, POV Natasha Romanov, Past Child Abuse, Past Domestic Violence, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Post-Decimation, Post-Hulk Snap, Post-The Incredible Hulk (2008), Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Professor Hulk - Freeform, Prophetic Dreams, Psychologists & Psychiatrists, Smart Hulk (Marvel), Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, thor ragnarok - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2020-07-23 03:31:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 110,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20001637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrRJSB/pseuds/DrRJSB
Summary: If you were not happy with how Natasha and Bruce were treated in Avengers: Endgame, here's your fix-it fic.





	1. Part One: The Price

**Author's Note:**

> We start on Monday, October 22, 2023: Eleven days after achieving time travel, six days since losing Natasha, five days after the Hulk Snap, two days since Tony's funeral, and one since Steve went into the Quantum Realm and Old Man Steve appeared.
> 
> First, we have to fix that arm!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We start on Monday, October 22, 2023: Eleven days after achieving time travel, six days since losing Natasha, five days after the Hulk Snap, two days since Tony's funeral, and one since Steve went into the Quantum Realm and Old Man Steve appeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't buy for a moment that Bruce's arm would be "permanently damaged." There are too many brilliant people in the world, especially after Bruce brought several of them back with the Hulk Snap, who could fix the damage.

[Monday, October 22, 2023]

“Five days! It’s been FIVE WHOLE DAYS that you’ve been walking around like this? Just what the hell were you thinking, Bruce?” Dr. Helen Cho swore intensely as she escorted an ailing Dr. Bruce Banner down the Avengers Quinjet ramp to the rooftop at the U-GEN building in Soule, South Korea. The more she saw of the obvious physical damage inflicted by the Infinity Stones, the more the geneticist was getting wound up. This was a complete reversal of their normal temperaments as the healer began to rant at her friend and professional collaborator, and the physicist calmly accepted her chastisement with a sheepish smile and a shrug of his broad shoulders underneath his tailored charcoal gray suit.

His right arm was now out of the sling he’d used during Tony’s funeral a few days before, but it was an obvious mismatch with his healthy left arm. “안녕하세요to you, too, Helen,” Bruce replied with a good-humored laugh. “By the way, this is Princess Shuri of Wakanda,” he said, gesturing behind them with his good hand to the slim, bright-eyed teen who was enjoying a laugh at his expense as she tucked a meter-long cylindrical container under her arm to bring off the Quinjet with her. “I believe you’ve already been consulting over the Internet,” the physicist added.

Helen suddenly flushed with embarrassment and turned to her other visitor. “Oh, my apologies, Princess Shuri. I’m sorry for being so rude. It’s good to finally meet you in person, your highness.”

“No problem, Dr. Cho. Please, just ‘Shuri’ is a lot easier.” She reached up and gave Bruce’s good arm a pat. “This is more important, and you are right to give him Hell for not getting here sooner,” the young woman chided Bruce.

“Just ‘Helen,’ please,” the older scientist said, feeling very chagrined.

“Hey, I tried to get here faster, and you know that, Princess,” Bruce needled the young Wakandan prodigy in return since they’d had to detour for her to pick up her package in Oakland, CA, on the way from Upstate New York to South Korea. Bruce turned to his colleague, “Please, Helen, you’d just gotten back to your family, and there were too many other things going on after the battle at the Avengers Compound to have more than triage done anyway. Thanks to Shuri and her medics, it’s been stable or improving over the last four days, and if you look closely,” he pulled back his blue dress shirt’s collar and bent down for a better view of his neck, “it’s starting to regenerate around the edges of the burn.”

“I could tell that from some of the scans you sent, but let’s get inside the lab, and I’ll judge for myself.” Bruce was just able to fit his oversized frame inside the freight elevator with the two scientists by ducking and crouching a bit. Squeezing through the doors on the staircase would have been worse. When they arrived at the correct floor, Dr. Cho led them into one of her lab spaces where the third generation of “the Cradle” and its related research projects now resided. “I’m sorry for the mess and disorganization. The program and our research agenda continued in my absence, but I’m almost back up to speed.” Bruce noted everything looked as neat and well-organized as it always had in the past.

Helen kept grumbling to herself in both English and Korean as she helped him take off his clothing from the waist up before tackling the protective sheathing and nutrient treatment wrap shielding his right arm. The irony of their character reversal—her anger and his calm—wasn’t lost on him, and he bit his lower lip to avoid smiling too much and antagonizing her. She still shot him a deadly glance. “Don’t you dare smile unless that’s from the pain meds, Banner,” Helen threatened. He doubted there were currently any pain meds involved since they’d never been effective for long after his original “accident” altered his metabolism. He was used to being stoic about it as Banner and irritable when he’d been just Hulk about three years ago. Now that he’d co-integrated, he was enduring it as good-naturedly as he could. 

When Bruce had Skyped Helen very early that morning (tomorrow afternoon for her with the 13-hour time difference), her husband Philip had to reassure her she wasn’t being pranked. A much larger and greener Bruce explained to her that while she was gone for five years, he had made peace with his anger-prone alter ego and “merged” with the Hulk. If it weren’t for his voice and facial expressions, she wouldn’t have recognized her old colleague in the new Bruce. Even face-to-face, she was still feeling a bit unnerved by his floor-to-ceiling size, but he was surprisingly nimble and coordinated as he maneuvered around the delicate equipment. She had to admit, especially with the geeky glasses and easy-going confidence, the new Bruce was pretty charming.

The U-GEN staff had brought in a reinforced examination table for Helen to use, so she could examine him since he was now roughly seven and a half feet tall and about 900 lbs. Not as big as his former temperamental Hulk form had been, but this Bruce was now closer to Hulk physically than Banner’s spare 5’ 9” frame. Thankfully, his intellect and puckish sense of humor were as prominent as ever; still, this was a lot to wrap her head around on top of everything else she’d missed in five years. To be honest, having a project like rehabbing Bruce’s arm helped her focus since she was having difficulty fitting back into her own projects that had moved on without her. In cutting-edge science, five years felt like a lifetime. She wondered what Nat thought about this metamorphosis since he hadn’t mentioned her yet, and they’d seemed to be getting so close. They were all definitely going to have to catch up and talk about this later. Right now, the geneticist needed to see what they had left to work with function-wise and determine a course of treatment or make some tough decisions about whether or not to remove the limb. She guessed this was just one of several likely reasons for the Wakandan wunderkind to be involved since she’d reportedly redesigned Sergeant Barnes’ prosthetic.

Now that Bruce’s upper body was exposed, Helen studied the extensive wrapping protecting his arm and shoulder. “Here, may I please assist you, Helen?” Shuri offered as she caught back up to them in the right section of the interconnected areas. She’d gotten a little lost in thought as she’d curiously looked around the cluster of labs on that floor. (She could hardly wait for the tour!) She’d been taking a lot of mental notes since the final showdown at the Avenger’s Compound as she’d met many interesting people.

As soon as Tony’s body had been taken away from the battlefield crater, she’d approached the exhausted Hulk as he collapsed onto his knees in the rubble. It didn’t take a genius to see he was obviously injured and overwrought, but she was surprised to learn he was not the angry alter ego she was expecting, but the good-humored physicist she’d teased about Vision’s neural configuration who was now broken down before her. Bast forgive her, how she’d mercilessly critiqued Banner and Stark’s work on the synthezoid just before the Snap! Now, it felt like a lifetime ago, and so much had changed while she was “blipped.”

On the day of the second battle, Shuri had quickly sent an assistant to look for Natasha Romanoff, knowing that’s who should have been there to share their loss together only to be told by one of the Dora Milaje that the warrior and spy had sacrificed herself before the battle had even started. Shuri had quickly stepped forward and taken charge of Banner’s care on the battlefield. It was devastatingly obvious to her he’d lost the two most important people in the world to him, but she’d be damned if he was going to lose his life or his arm next.

Tents were set up in a field away from the blast crater where the Compound had been. Only a few of the storage buildings and a maintenance facility toward the very back of the property had been spared due to the angle of attack, so the survivors took Bruce and the other wounded there where they still had electricity and running water. Her initial scans showed he had unusual radiation burns, similar to what Stark had suffered. “So, are you the fool or the hero responsible for bringing us all back, Dr. Banner?” she surmised.

“It was a team effort,” Bruce acknowledged, yet he demurred taking credit even after paying such an awful price. She estimated he had paid about 160 pounds of flesh to return half of all life in the universe—including hers and T’Challa’s—so maybe it wasn’t such a bad deal? Of course, that put a lot of people in his debt. She, however, was one of the few in the unique position of being able to pay him something back now when he needed it.

“Joint effort or not, you alone wore the Gauntlet and made it happen. Thank you, Dr. Bruce Banner. You don’t even have to say, ‘You’re welcome,’” she added pertly.

Despite the pain, he’d smiled and nodded. “You are welcome, Shuri. I just wish Tony had let me do it the second time.”

She shook her head. “Even I, who never met Mr. Stark, know he wouldn’t have let you, and it was not your fate.” The older physicist simply sighed and shook his head as the tears started to fill his eyes again. “Whether you like it or not, Bruce Banner, you are the one who is going to survive, especially if I have anything to say about it.” He looked at her and almost laughed through his tears. That’s when she was sure he had some fight left in him. “Besides, who am I going to teach how to make synthetic synapses work properly if you don’t stick around, hmm?”

That had gotten a small chuckle out of him, so she and an assistant had set to work removing the burned purple, grey, and black tech suit from him. The tricky part had been separating it from where the material had melted onto his tough skin, especially the spots on his back and hand where the healthy tissue was starting to regenerate around the fibers. That wouldn’t have been an issue if the uniform had been made out of Vibranium, which she could easily have made to separate or meld with organic tissue by merely adjusting it with one of her Kimoyo Beads. This was a different carbon-based weave that incorporated organic materials with the high-tech microstructures. At Bruce’s suggestion, the healers used their Beads to apply cold and the fibers shrunk enough to be removed with a dental water jet. They were nothing if not resourceful that afternoon. Next, they applied a Wakandan cooling nutrient wrap to disperse the heat and protect the burned tissue from infection. It was no secret that aloe was a major ingredient, and it also had a pretty powerful anesthetic. However, her patient didn’t need to know that. Eventually, he’d slept stretched across four cots.

Everything had gotten crazier after that as T’Challa, M’Baku, and she had returned to Wakanda briefly before Stark’s funeral to see that the mantel of leadership was returned to her brother—Bast be blessed, without a fight or torture-by-corset this time. The funeral had only been two days ago, and Steve had left to return the Infinity Stones the next day, as soon as Bruce had tested his new portal. Demolition and construction work had already started at the damaged Compound property, so they set the equipment up in the open. She had a bad feeling something hadn’t gone according to plan, but Bruce had been tight-lipped about it on the flight to Seoul, though he did confirm it was Steve who’d taken on the mission. She could afford to be patient since her brother would eventually crack, and she expected to be consulted at some point if there was a serious problem. Shuri didn’t question the outcome, but she suspected their methods may have incurred some serious consequences. Time would tell.

In the meantime, Shuri was surprised, yet not really surprised that no one had attempted to revive Vision since the “Snappening.” Now that Wanda Maximov was back, the young scientist was certain it was a project she and (she hoped) Dr. Banner would want to take on, which was another good reason to be here and talk with Helen Cho since she’d helped design and “birth” the synthezoid’s body. Like Helen, she had a five-year backlog to catch up on, but Shuri and her brother had agreed overseeing Banner’s treatment was an important responsibility because she might be one of the few people able to manage it, especially since she thought he could use a friend and a purpose to keep him from sliding into depression. Why not snare two birds with one wire then? Their mother would have insisted it was wise politics as well, but that really didn’t factor into her daughter’s thinking. He was broken; she would fix him. It was that simple.

Shuri used one of her tech Beads to help release the wrap, and the Wakandan-made sheathing came off Bruce’s arm slowly yet cleanly. Helen grew silent as she took in the shocking extent of the radiation burns and tissue damage. “I’d say this involves 20% of your body, Bruce. Can you extend your arm?” He had to take his time, but he was able to move his shoulder and extend his elbow, through up to 85% of his normal range of motion comfortably. His forearm and wrist were less damaged with mostly second-degree burns, and his fingers were in the best shape, having been somewhat shielded from the radiation by the glove. The spots where the Stones had been were the only places completely healed over with slivery-white scar tissue. Helen was pretty certain that would be permanent unless they replaced the tissue.

The withering of the limb was what both puzzled and concerned Helen. The bones were intact, functioning, and proportional, but the muscles looked like they’d atrophied and lost 40-50% of their mass. According to Bruce, that was an improvement of about 10% over the past four days. Yet, it was almost like part of whatever he’d done to himself in the Gamma Lab to make his larger form stable had been undone by the radiation. On the bright side, even if his arm did look like a charred log, at least the tissue smelled clean and healthy with just a bit of Gamma-tinged bitterness beneath the mineral-rich smell of the healing compounds in the wound dressing. She’d already looked at the scans they’d sent her ahead of their arrival, so the examination both confirmed her fears and gave her some hope.

The regeneration specialist closed her eyes and counted to ten. “Thank you again, by the way, Bruce, for having the fortitude to go through this for all of us.” He simply acknowledged her gratitude with a warm smile. He wasn’t ready to admit how much of the damage he’d taken trying to undo Natasha’s choice and bring her back with everyone else. Otherwise, he could have efficiently concentrated on just who and how to bring everyone back safely. He was almost as disappointed as Wanda about not finding Vision returned. Apparently, Natasha’s had been a lost cause, but he’d risked everything and tried his hardest. He would have time to properly grieve and plan her memorial later, but just six days in, Bruce was having trouble letting go of his last small shreds of denial about her fate. Helen continued, “It’s good to be back, _but_ delaying has made our job here more complicated. Tony’s initial nanite seal seems to have prevented contamination of the wounds and kept you from losing blood and plasma. However, it’s a miracle with all this burned tissue that it hasn’t gone necrotic . . . yet.”

“You can thank Shuri’s wound dressing techniques for that,” Bruce acknowledged. They’d tried a progression of them as the situation improved.

“No kidding,” the physician noted as she probed the skin around Bruce’s right shoulder to find the patchwork of green, grey, and pink tissue knitting together at the edge of the charred black flesh that covered his right arm up to his shoulder and snaked up his neck and across parts of his massive chest and shoulder. “Damn, it certainly looks painful.” 

“It is and that’s what gives me some hope that the nerves are still intact,” Bruce explained.

Helen used a handheld scope to get a closer look at the regenerating tissue along the wound’s edge on his shoulder, and the view popped up on a new 3D Holographic display to her right that quickly translated to a digital 3D model over a control panel. “Would it be out of line to suggest you’ve been gene splicing, Dr. Banner?” Helen asked as she identified patterns from three different individual genomes in the repairing tissues.

“You would not be wrong,” Bruce admitted. “I am the poster boy for genetic chimerism.” 

“Thought so,” Helen snorted and chewed at her tongue as she thought. She adjusted the display to highlight the differences. “It’s visible up close in all of the new tissue, but I imagine it will eventually fade like a scar.”

Cosmetically, it didn’t bother Bruce either way. He glanced over to the corner of the room at Shuri’s petite figure standing at a station and intently working on a small piece of Stark tech he’d brought at her request. She was using one of her Kimoyo Beads to make adjustments to Tony’s device. “What do you think, Shuri?”

“First things first, Hulk Boy. Since we’re fresh out of maggots like the British once used, I’m programming some of Stark’s nanites to remove the dead and dying flesh,” the young scientist explained. “Helen, if we’re still in agreement on this next step, tell me when you’re ready to start.”

The older scientist checked his shoulder one last time then swabbed his massive chest with a prepping solution for the Stark tech to perform better before she stepped back. “He’s all yours, lady. I certainly agree, cleanup is the next thing that needs to happen, and I definitely don’t want to deal with gamma-powered larvae.”

Bruce just groaned at that mental image. “Yuck!”

Shuri giggled before she stuck the nanite housing to his right pectoral muscle. “This is going to itch like crazy ants, but let’s see if we can’t get you back to looking like something besides a big, crunchy briquette.” She tapped the housing unit on his bare chest and a swarm of miniature robots spread across the edges of the damaged tissue like a tiny darkwave. At first nothing further seemed to happen, but after a few heartbeats, the cracked, blackened skin began to flake off, starting at the edges of the wound and falling like black ash and sand to the floor as they worked toward his shoulder and slowly converged down his withered arm to his fingertips where Shuri collected them back into their housing.

Helen had to avert her eyes. It reminded her too much of the so-called “Snappening” or “blip” or whatever term they were calling it now. She’d seen some of her colleagues struggle and dust away before she did herself. She’d had just enough time to wish she could tell her family she loved them. When she looked back at Bruce and the healthier tissue that was emerging, she felt a great deal more optimistic about his chances for recovery.

Helen squinted at Bruce and shook her head. “You are so lucky not to be septic and gangrenous to the bone, Banner. This isn’t going to be easy, but I think we can use the Cradle to speed up your healing significantly and restore the muscle mass.” Helen looked questioningly at the younger scientist. “If Shuri is willing to collaborate, we may be able to apply even better techniques to upgrade the repairs to match your normal strength and durability as well.”

“Ha!” Shuri laughed and slapped Bruce on his left shoulder. “I told him as much, Helen. Cheer up, Bruce,” she noted with a grin. “I’ve always wanted to play Dr. Frankenstein.” Shuri offered Helen a fist bump, which the specialist smoothly returned.

Although they’d just met, Helen already liked the younger woman. Her own young son Amadeus was now suddenly a ten-year-old and her daughter was almost the same age as the princess. Helen felt completely robbed of so much, but she shoved her own pain and anger to the back of her mind for now and kept moving forward and thinking positive. This collaboration might actually be a lot of fun.

Bruce offered them both his large set of healthy knuckles to bump as well. “Just to set the record straight, I have faith in you both, but I know this is not going to be a quick or easy process. I already owe you a bunch.”

“Oh, don’t worry. The world owes you a sizable tab. Besides, if we can get this moving, maybe Col. Rhodes will let me have a crack at his spine next.”

Bruce groaned, “That is your worst pun yet today, Princess.”

“No, it’s not, and I’m serious. If we can combine the Wakandan Design Group’s concepts with Helen’s techniques, I don’t think nerve regeneration is at all out of the question, even after years have passed. What do you think, Helen? You’ve worked with Vibranium before.”

The geneticist first took a deep breath and blew it out. “If we get this to work for Bruce, I don’t see why not. However, Bruce, you’re going to have to explain what you did to yourself since your tissues and genetic makeup were unique to start with, and we all know your procedure is beyond cosmetic.” Both female scientists looked at him expectantly.

It was Bruce’s turn to take a deep breath and think. For once he had an audience who would have very little trouble understanding the technical and scientific elements of his metamorphosis, but that was a fairly straightforward process compared to what he’d gone through inside. That was much harder to explain, even to empathetic friends. “Okay, we can go into the weeds and details later, I have all kinds of notes and data, but in a nutshell, I had to make a stable genetic form for both Hulk and Banner to inhabit with some equality for integration to happen. We needed a body that didn’t depend upon the adrenalin spikes and gamma surges that the original genetic coding for Banner always fought against and caused Hulk debilitating pain. Therefore, I rewrote my predominant DNA code to include the elements from both of my genetic sets that we agreed we wanted to keep. Then it was basically splicing active sequences together until we both had what we wanted while the rest has gone dormant. We started out with Banner vs. Hulk.” He gestured toward himself, “Now we have the best of both somewhere in the middle: me . . . Bruce. It’s an upgrade for both of us and took about a year and a half of work before I applied the gene therapy and activated it with Gamma radiation as the catalyst.”

The geneticist nodded, understanding the complexity of what he’d done. They would certainly be discussing this along with some of her concerns. “When you say ‘dormant,’ that means the coding is still there, it’s just not manifesting, right?”

“Right. If you take a look at the images of the healing tissue we just observed, I think you’ll find plenty of evidence that all three sets are still present, just not expressed.”

“I know there’s a CRISPR/crispier pun in there somewhere, but I’m a little too jetlagged to spike it,” Shuri joked.

“Bruce, you really went beyond CRISPR, didn’t you?” He shrugged in acknowledgement. “How did you negotiate that agreement between your other selves?” Helen asked, looking concerned but intrigued.

“I’ve been seeing a psychiatrist since a few weeks after the Decimation. You remember Betty’s husband Lee Samson?” 

“Yes, he’s a pretty decent human being and a respected analyst.” Helen knew him through Betty. “He got you both to communicate?”

“It was mostly through Banner at first, but eventually Hulk felt like talking. We got to know each other and understand our mutual traumas and why we were separate entities and co-main personalities. That helped us figure out what had happened to us during our childhood and the accident. We decided we were both tired of being victims and victimizing each other in a vicious circle. We had to accept there was a lot more to like about both of us than hate, especially when we worked together.” He didn’t add that they both knew if they continued to be at war, it was only going to become more toxic and dangerous, especially for those around them. Banner had especially worried that neither of them would have control if they continued to fight each other and not communicate. That weakness, their lack of working together, had led to Thanos defeating them both separately. There was also the depression that followed after their failing and the chronic fear that neither of them were worthy of being loved, but he wasn’t about to get into this at the moment. It hurt too much to think about Natasha and what had and then hadn’t happened between them.

Helen reached out and touched his good hand. “I have always liked you and admired you as a colleague and friend. I’m looking forward to getting to know both of you better, Bruce. If you’re happier, I’m happy for you.”

Shuri smiled reassuringly, “Don’t take this the wrong way, Bruce, but sometime I would really like to map your mind along with your genomes.” That got them all three laughing.

“Maybe,” Bruce replied with a cocked eyebrow and a wink.

“All right,” Helen said more seriously. “Let’s get down to practical matters and come up with a treatment plan.” An hour later, they had mapped out a schedule for treatments, and Helen had taken samples from him to work with thanks to the modified Vibranium tools Shuri had brought with her. Helen would culture his cells to make the raw materials to use for the Cradle in combination with the Wakandan Design Group’s Vibranium technology. It would take a few days to grow the cells and modify the equipment to fit him, so Bruce planned to return in the middle of the week. He’d taken the precaution of offering U-GEN extra security if they worked with him, which they’d gladly accepted.

As they wrapped up, Shuri pulled out the long cylindrical package she’d picked up at the Wakandan International Outreach Center in Oakland and laid in on the table they’d been sitting around.

“What’s in that?” Bruce asked a little warily.

“I’m glad you asked. It’s a couple of presents from my family. I’m sorry I didn’t have time to wrap them.” Shuri opened the end of the container and pulled out one large and two small bags of gold and black cloth, elaborately stitched and embellished with the symbols of her family. She handed one to Bruce and the other to Helen. “Open them now! I can’t wait!” Shuri insisted.

Helen opened hers to find a bracelet of the finest gold Vibranium with a Kimoyo Bead. “Oh, my, this is a real honor, Shuri! Thank you,” the scientist said appreciatively. Very few people outside Wakanda possessed one of these technological wonders.

“You’re very welcome! You’ll find that it’s more useful than it is beautiful, especially when you’re working with Vibranium technology.”

Bruce had gingerly tried to open his but set the bag down to admire Helen’s gift.

“Oh, no! I gave you yours out of order, Bruce.” Shuri started to pass him the larger bag then opened it herself. “Sorry, I really can’t wait.” What looked like a silky metallic sleeve almost a meter long and a glove slipped out.

“Uh, thank you?” Bruce wasn’t quite sure what to do with them.

“Put it on.”

“Without putting the wrap back on first?” he asked.

“Yes, put it right on next to your fried Frankenstein skin. Sleeve first. Here! Give me your hand with the fingers extended out like that.” Shuri picked up the sleeve and pulled it onto her own wrist, grabbed his injured hand, and smoothly pulled the metallic fabric up over her own wrist and hand and onto his before tugging it up over his elbow and covering his arm up to the shoulder. It was much heavier than it looked. “Men, it doesn’t matter what culture, no one teaches you anything useful about how to dress! Do you think you can manage the glove, Doctor?”

“That I can do,” he affirmed and gingerly pulled it on, so the sleeve and the glove matched up at the edges.

“Helen, would you do the honors and roll your Kimoyo Bead between your thumb and index finger one-half rotation?” Shuri asked, and the geneticist held the metallic sphere close to Bruce’s arm and gave it a try. The glove immediately grafted itself to the sleeve and the sleeve expanded outward, matching the contours of his other arm with overlapping bands of dark metal that blended into one another as they worked their way up his arm.

Bruce turned his wrist and flexed his hand, and the arm responded with a natural-looking ripple of muscles. He looked at her quizzically, “Do I get to be a Winter Scientist?”

“Winter, my ass, this is Wakandan. You can fill out a citizenship application later. Just watch.”

The last thing that happened was the color and then the texture shifted to match his verdant skin tones. “Color me impressed,” Bruce murmured as he continued to move and flex his injured arm. “Thank you!”

“Now, do not expect it to match your other arm’s strength. You can leave it on for as long as 12 hours in a row, but it’s better if you don’t sleep in it. You’re beta testing this, by the way, so don’t shower in it either,” Shuri recommended. “Now, see if you can open your present.”

Bruce carefully picked up the small cloth bag and after a few tries was able to open the drawstring and poured out a larger bracelet and Kimoyo Bead. He grinned and fastened the chain onto his left wrist. “Cool! I may have to get a dressier watch,” he quipped, but then he remembered Tony had given it to him. Never mind. “Thank you and your family, Shuri. This is truly an honor.”

“You’re both very welcome!” the Princess responded with a satisfied smile. “Do the same as Helen did to deactivate it when you want to take the prosthetic off, Bruce.”

“Did you have this made because you thought I’d lose the arm?” he asked her seriously.

“Honestly, no, because I already had it on the drawing board before the Snapanations happened, so you get to try it out as more of a temporary aid. This way you can be done with the wraps and wound dressings, too, but I imagine you’ll only need this for a short time.”

Helen nodded, “I think we can move on to topical treatments and get your fluid levels built up over the next few days before the first grafting treatment.”

“It also works as a compression garment, which you’re going to need after the tissue grafts,” Shuri continued. “It will also administer medications and treatments if needed. Later, it can also apply resistance to muscle groups, so you can use it to help with your physical rehabilitation.”

“Impressive is right,” Helen noted. “You’re going to have to show me how this works.”

“Right after you give me a tour of your labs!”

“Deal,” Helen agreed. They finished up with their planning, and Helen walked them through the labs where they met her team members and her co-director who’d taken on the position after the Decimation. They were working things out like a lot of people.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my Beta-gals and coconspirators, Autumn_Froste and EmilyGracie13, who've put up with a ton of ranting over the past three months since our version of the MCU came to an inglorious, OOC end.
> 
> This is my attempt to make some sense out of all the missing, neglected, nerfed, and misused parts that should have been Banner and Hulk's story arc that we didn't get and the blossoming of Natasha and Bruce's canon romance and relationship with all the happiness they absolutely deserve. I am still fuming mad about what was done so callously and unjustly to both Natasha and Bruce (and Tony and Thor) in Endgame. I may not be able to fix the whole MCU, but we will have Justice for Natasha and Bruce/Hulk here. Next up, "Part 2: Cold Dreams."
> 
> If you'd like to see the cover edits for each chapter, check out my Pinterest board: https://www.pinterest.com/borahrs/my-bruce-x-natasha-edits/fanfiction/
> 
> Comments, questions, and commiseration are always welcome! Please give a like, a follow, a kudo, a review, and tell your friends to give it a read!


	2. Part Two: Cold Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened to the real Natasha Romanoff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From Natasha's point of view, starting on Friday, July 6, 2018, seven weeks after the snap and almost four weeks since the Avengers killed Thanos on Titan II, "the Garden."

The last thing she remembered was Steve forgetting his gate passcode and having to be let in. He’d just moved out of the Avengers Compound to set up his apartment down in New York City, well, Brooklyn, and he said he’d lost his cheat sheet. She’d buzzed him in and continued with her planning session as Okoye argued to form a policing consortium to function independently from the World Council. They’d discussed it for another half hour before ending the video conference call. She should have known it wasn’t Steve when she found him puttering around the kitchen, fixing her tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich. She’d been impressed he’d learned how to open a can and apply heat without burning the place down. They’d sat down across from each other at the kitchen table and chatted about what he was doing with setting up the survivors’ support group and getting the apartment furnished. She’d dipped her sandwich in the soup, and he’d thought that was cute. She’d taken two more bites and realized something was wrong when her vision blurred, and she couldn’t keep her head up. Steve had eased her out of the chair and onto the floor, but when she looked up and tried to focus, Natasha had seen her own face leaning over her.

The dreams never seemed to end. They weren’t all the same, but there were certain ones that seemed to be a variation on a theme. The interrogation ones were her favorites. In the old ones, she was in a chair and some pompous general was giving her all kinds of details about his operation or she’d collared some jerk who needed to be threatened into doing the smart thing. At other times, she was the secret interrogator probing her mark for information or manipulating him to do what they wanted. There was this one guy she’d been assigned to after Fury pulled her off Coulson’s team. He was a scientist. Pleasantly easy on the eyes and incredibly smart. Not just book smart either. The guy had a knack for making it across borders undetected and disappearing for months before anyone could catch up to him. He’d given S.H.I.E.L.D. the slip twice—once in Egypt and then in Vancouver—before she caught up with him in Windsor and followed him across the border into Detroit. She’d felt a connection to him the moment she read his file. He wanted to be good and balance out the harm he felt he’d done. He scared her shitless once, but he made her happy, too. Where was he? Why couldn’t she focus? Had he left her again? Take me with you. _Please take me with you!_

The new dreams always involved someone asking her questions or telling her to remember details about people or places. She didn’t have to speak. All the person asked her to do was think about the answer or the memories. She imagined she was looking at herself, but upside down a few times, but man, her hair looked like shit. “Tell me what you think of him,” the other her had demanded and pointed to a monitor with a picture of someone she loved.

“I miss him. We were going to leave together, but he thought he needed to protect me, so he left by himself. Then he just came back. We worked it out. We just needed a little space to know what we meant to each other. We held hands almost the whole way to Wakanda, and neither of us could quite quit smiling. We held each other the whole way back after we failed. We both survived. We just needed a little more time together. He’s a good person. His kisses are so incredible. He loves me. He’ll be back from Virginia Monday. We were going to make plans.”

“Shit.” There was a long pause. “He meant something really important to you. I suppose that’s why I’m here.”

For some reason, it felt like her heart was in her throat, and she sobbed, “Bruce and I are leaving together. I made him Hulk out on purpose, but he said he understood. He forgave me.” The cold feeling crept up on her. “Where is he? I want to see him.”

She dreamed of waking up with him in the spare room at the Barton farm. She was nestled beside him with her head on his shoulder. They talked about finding a place of their own with a little land around it and room for a garden, maybe some roses. They didn’t need to make a lot of plans. They’d see what happened between them and go from there. There were so many kids without parents now. Maybe they could do something about that?

“What do you think of this?” A picture of Hulk appeared in front of her, but something was off.

“Hulk doesn’t wear glasses. Bruce wears glasses. The dork. My dork.” Nat almost giggled. That was weird, and she felt almost giddy. “His eyes are Bruce’s too. Do they both have his brown eyes now? Hulk’s haven’t been just green for years, not unless he’s really, really angry, and then they almost glow. This guy isn’t angry. He’s kind of familiar.”

“Would you talk to him if he wanted to talk to you?”

“Of course, but I’m not sure who he is. He looks happy though. I’d talk to him. I’d talk to Hulk if that’s who he is.” She felt so lightheaded.

“Then I’ll have to.” The other Natasha came closer and took off her glove. “I’m sorry. I’m going to have to take a little more today. I know you won’t understand this, but I have to fit in here if my people are going to survive. You isolated yourself and did most of my job in the beginning for me. That was a stroke of luck. However, I can only learn so much from the files. I have to imprint on you to know and feel enough to pass for you. Unfortunately, every time I take an imprint from you, I risk losing myself in your identity like . . . what do you call them here? A sleeper agent. Sometimes my kind does that on purpose and trusts that at the right time, the right signs will come, and they’ll remember who they are. I’m afraid I’ll forget you’re here if I go too deep. I don’t think that’s right. It’s just not ethical if it’s not necessary.” There was a long pause where her fate hung in the balance. “I’ll tell you what, Natasha, I’m going to be sporting about this. If I don’t come back every 14 days to check on you and hit the reset, I’m putting in the order for the chamber to release you. That’s fair, isn’t it?” She’d nodded groggily. “Okay, that’s our deal then. Go back to sleep now, my beautiful dreamer.” She felt a cool hand rest on her forehead and drifted off. _Please, no_. _Please_. . .

Natasha drifted for a while. She wandered the marble and mahogany halls of the mansion she’d been raised in during one of her lifetimes. The former spy walked the corridors for days without meeting anyone. Then, she was late for the ballet class, and she had no toe shoes with her. Madame would beat her! She was looking everywhere for them. There was a roar behind her and she ran for her life. She’d made him a promise: she would get him off the S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier, and he would live his life. She would watch over him from a distance as she had for years in British Columbia, in Detroit, in Virginia, in Kolkata. He would walk away and be free. No one would put him in a cage. Not Ross. Not AIM. Not Hydra. Not even S.H.I.E.L.D. She swore on her life. “YOUR LIFE!” _Bruce!_ His name was Bruce, and they were going to leave together as soon as the world quit burning and blowing away like dust in a whirlwind.

With a start, Nat opened her eyes. She could hear her other self talking, apologizing for doing something she knew the real her would never have done. “You get it, don’t you, Natasha? You can’t compromise your mission. You have to stick to your post because your people are counting on you. You’re the last fucking soul on that wall, so you can’t give in or give up even if that would mean finding some happiness, losing yourself in someone else. Please forgive me. I’m trying to do what you would do, but there are so many conflicting motivations. This is so damn hard. The way he looks at me. I feel like I’ve kicked a puppy. After everything I’ve done to him. No matter how deeply I’ve wounded him, he still loves you.” Nat could hear her pacing back and forth. “Of course, he’s right. I’ve pushed them all away. I’m so sorry. I know you would have found a compromise, reached a balance that included him, but I have to do this alone if I’m going to pull it off.” She really was talking to herself. Natasha felt the cold imprinting hand on her forehead again and floated away free.

“Stockholm syndrome. It happens when hostages start to empathize with their captors.”

“Who is Patricia Hearst?” Clint posed. It was a good answer to the game they were playing: Fucked-up Jeopardy. FuJ or Fudge, for short. It was something to do when they were bored shitless, waiting for other people to do things.

“I’ll accept it. Your turn,” she said. Neither of them was even keeping score anymore.

“Okay. The lamest excuse for a dinosaur ever.” Clint had been saving this one since her last visit to see Cooper and Laura on the farm.

“Barney! Who is Barney?”

“Sure, Auntie Nat. I’ll take that one. Jesus, this is bo-o-o-ring. But, it’s got to be better than watching that scientist guy all fall and winter in Detroit though, right?”

“I wouldn’t say that. I mean, you are here to amuse me now, but he’s interesting, set me on my heels a few times, too.”

Clint laughed, made his hands into fists, and puffed out his cheeks. “Did he get all big and green for you when he stubbed his toe or something?”

“No, but he did work through how to nullify some of the radiation he was putting off and cobbled the experiment together in this tiny lab at the clinic he was working at. He injected himself before I could even grab a sample and report it to Fury. I didn’t get much sleep watching him on the monitor that night, but he nailed it. Two days later and there was no more radiation trail to follow. That really threw those AIM idiots who’d used that to track him for a loop.” She didn’t mention him using spiderwort plants as a bioindicator for radiation because the flowers would turn from purple to pink if he was putting off gamma radiation. Damn, the guy was smart!

“You sound like you’re still rooting for the guy.”

“You know I like an underdog, Barton.”

“Me, too. Hey, here comes Molnár, and I don’t see a satchel. Shit.”

“Time to take the safety off.”

She was awake again and heard someone crying. It sounded like her, but she never cried—at least not so anyone could hear her. “You would have gone after him by now. I know you would have, but I’m afraid he’ll know the difference between us. The only way I kept Banner from knowing was getting in his face and pushing him away hard. Cutting ties. I’m so sorry. I went through the files again, and I know Barton saved you. He’s like a brother to you. I don’t think I can pull this off and get him to stop what he’s doing. Your best friend has gone rogue, and I’m not brave enough to do what you would. I’m so sorry.”

This time she drifted off on her own. She was picking flowers in a meadow, gathering a lot of them: Daisies, black-eyed Susan, Queen Anne’s lace, cone flowers, dame’s rocket, spiderwort. There were people there she knew. Vision, Wanda, Sam, Stephen Strange, Peter Parker, and the old maintenance guy Stanislaus were all there. “I’ve been thinking about you,” she told Wanda.

“Be patient,” the younger woman told her.

“I’m trying.”

The next time, the other her sounded a little happier. “This initiative you and Okoye started up with Carol, Rocket, Nebula, Rhodey, and the others is really shaping up. You’d be very proud of them. I think I’ve done you proud, too.”

“No Tony?” she croaked hoarsely. It seemed like forever since she’d controlled her own voice.

“He’s kind of retired. I’m sorry you missed the wedding. He and Pepper have a daughter now. I have to keep my distance, but they seem really happy. Maybe just a little bitter still, but he’s good at keeping grudges. He misses that Parker kid a lot. Pep worries and so does Happy.”

“I remember Peter. What about Thor?”

“Stays at New Asgard. I can’t get him to engage. Bruce said he’s having a hard time. Valkyrie has taken on the day-to-day stuff.”

“You talked to Bruce?” There was no answer for what seemed an eternity.

“At first, he was mostly sticking to the science, living in a new place not too far from here. We’ve needed him for muscle a couple of times, and he always comes through when I ask. He does a lot without the rest of us. He has finally sort of moved on like I planned, but he still asks how I’m . . . how you’re doing. I tell him, ‘Okay.’ He knows something isn’t right, but he’s not put his finger on it yet. So, I don’t ask much of him. He’s become quite the hero on his own now. Everyone loves him. Superman, Bill Nye, and Fred Rogers all in one big, green package. Every time I imprint from you, I . . . I miss him more and more. It’s hard.”

Natasha had been waiting for this moment for several months. Whatever it was the other her was pumping her full of to keep her sedated and compliant in this stasis chamber had gotten less and less effective over time. She could move her arms and legs again, but Nat knew she’d be lucky if she could get in one good shot, so it had to count. The other her had let her hair grow out long without cutting it or dying the platinum ends. It looked awful, like she’d given up or given in to the depression. She’d manipulated her friends into staying away while she martyred herself for the cause. _This wasn’t right_. _This pathetic hollow shell was not her!_ No wonder Bruce had stayed away. He’d held her all the way back from Wakanda after the devastation. They were both broken, but they hadn’t given up. They’d kept talking. He’d literally fought his way back to her across the whole damn galaxy. They were working things out together. They’d kissed and ended up back in his suite. They’d had seven beautiful weeks among the ruins to rekindle what they both had always felt. What they still felt! He was coming back from Virginia. They were finally together. The thought that this imposter had cheated them both, had tortured and manipulated them—it made her furious! How dare this creature take her life, their dreams, their future from them!

The other Natasha leaned over her, cold hand wavering over Nat’s forehead ready to syphon more details and memories in order to take a deeper dive into being her. Not this time, Sister! Nat kept it simple and hit her double straight in the nose with the butt of her palm, hoping the shock would make up for the relative weakness of the blow. The imposter’s head snapped back, but her right hand easily caught Nat’s extended arm by the wrist and jerked her up out of the cylindrical stasis chamber. Nat could now see that’s what it was as the adrenaline helped her vision clear.

“Nice try. I was wondering when you’d finally mutiny,” she said with a sneer as Nat struggled valiantly, trying to break the hold on her wrist. “I know you inside and out Natalia Romanova, Natalie Rushman, Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow. You’re not going to beat me at this.” She then dropped Natasha unceremoniously back into the chamber and held her down by the throat. “You are a noble woman, one I’m struggling to live up to, but I won’t let you ruin my plans.” The false Natasha shoved her down and slapped her across the face with the flat of her cold hand before the chamber door slid shut, and it pressurized with a hiss as it filled back up with gas.

This time the dreams were angry and tortured. Natasha punched her way through a room full of Hand assassins. She was outnumbered a dozen to one. She was taking them out methodically by ones and twos, but it seemed to be dragging out forever. How could she have taken this on without backup? Then the floor tilted, and they were all sliding off a cliff. She clung to the pavement until it was almost vertical before she realized it was a rockface, so Natasha climbed and climbed with no idea where she was going. It took weeks. When she reached the top, there was the other her sitting and waiting for her.

Natasha charged and knocked the imposter down. “You, Bitch! I want my life back!” Yet, all she had ahold of were rags.

“I know you’re angry. Believe me, I understand you,” said the false Natasha’s voice from behind her. Nat jumped up swinging and kicking, but couldn’t connect with a solid blow. “We can do this all day if you want, but I’m trying to help you.”

“Why should I believe you? You’ve imprisoned me and taken everything Thanos didn’t already kill from me.”

“You’re a spy. You should understand this. I had to be you, someone in your position, to ensure that my people were brought back. I’m pretty sure it’s going to happen now. It came at a high price for both of us, but I need for you to listen.”

Natasha stood there staring at her doppelganger. She was still shaking with anger, but she’d decided to hear her out. As she calmed down, Natasha noted the orange-red sky and the weird light. They were on some kind of odd natural tower, but the stone below her feet was carved into a semicircle. That’s when she realized the other her was floating just above and not standing on the stone. “We’re not on Earth, are we?”

“We’re on Vormir. It’s worlds away from yours. Your friend Clint left not so long ago, but I stayed so that he could get the Soul Stone. The Stone’s Guardian said it was ‘a soul for a soul’ and it had to be someone the person loved as a sacrifice.”

“But, you’re not me. Clint didn’t love you. You’re fake, artificial, false!”

“That’s right. We fought. I won and fell to my death. Clint received the Soul Stone—not because he’d sacrificed me, but because he thought you’d sacrificed yourself for him and his family. The Stone judged him worthy, but not me. I fooled the Guardian and the one who sought the Soul Stone, but the Stone itself knew I was false, so now rather than go on to the Soul World, I must wait for the Soul Stone to return and then Guard it.”

“How? Why are you talking to me now?”

“My last wish is to atone for what I’ve done. You know, the red in my ledger. The Stone let me have that. I want to tell you I’m sorry, thank you for the privilege of being you, and set you free so that you can have your life back. I can’t return those five years, but in fourteen days you will be freed from the chamber, and the device protecting and hiding it will shut down. Someone will find you. I hope your friends will have restored the universe to some order by then, and you can reclaim the happiness you deserve. Please be at peace.”

Natasha fell to her knees. “ _Five years_. You took five years from me.” Now she knew how much she’d lost. She might as well have been snapped. Yet, she was alive and would be able to get some of it back and continue to live. First, she had to wake up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rant [ignore this if you want]: I sincerely hope whoever is going to clean up after Endgame will think of something like this to bring our Natasha back because I really didn't recognize much of our fierce, badass Nat in the film. I just don't buy what the writers or the directors did with her or how they exploited her death for shock value. What a waste. She seemed like a ghost of herself, a pale reflection, and a mentally ill, suicidal wreck at that. How is she any kind of role model for anyone? I don't buy that she would have been the "last woman on the wall" because Bruce would not have let her isolate and martyr herself, and frankly Nat is smarter than that and a mentally stable survivor. How lazy can writers get? Well, it turns out, pretty damn lazy.  
> The writers claim they had written and there were filmed scenes for IW that "brought closure" to the relationship, that Nat had "moved on." It's pretty damn clear from what we saw in the IW trailers that was not what Marvel wanted audiences to think. It was also clear from the actors' performances that Bruce and Natasha still carried torches for each other through THREE films. It's also clear the Russos didn't give a damn for Natasha or Bruce, much less the relationship that they treated like a horrible burden they'd been saddled with despite all the clear indications in CW and Ragnarok that it was as Scarlett described it, "an ongoing relationship" that non-shipping fans supported. Furthermore, the writers admitted that Nat was supposed to have lived, but a messed up female intern said, "Don't you take that [horrific suicide] from her," so they flippantly decided to kill her off because she was less worthy than a serial kill because he had kids. Ugh. Pawn that shitty decision to fridge our one OG female character off on a woman all you want, Markus and McFeely, but you two deserve all the ire possible for making that unnecessary sexist call. They are lazy, cowardly, misogamist slime. I hope they never work for Marvel again.  
> Rant over. Take a few deep, cleansing breaths.
> 
> As always, my thanks to Autumn_Froste and Emilygracie13 for their badass Beta-skills! Any errors are mine. Please give us a share, a like, a kudo, a favorite, a follow, a review, a thumbs up, a comment, or a commiseration. I really do appreciate your encouragement and love questions! Next up, "Part 3: Resurrections."


	3. Part Three: Resurrections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We start on Monday morning of October 30, 2023, the day before Halloween. Bruce plans Natasha's memorial while visiting the wreckage at the Avengers Compound, and he thinks back to what led up to losing her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I'm a little late getting this posted. We're still on our road trip, so McDonald's is our favorite WiFi hotspot. I'll have the collage cover up shortly. Let me know what you think!

[Monday, Oct. 30, 2023]

On the thirteenth day since he’d learned Natasha was gone, Bruce stood on the spit of lakeshore high ground that was left between the crater where the Avengers Compound had stood and the partially drained lake. The salvage efforts were almost complete, and the rebuilding would start soon. It was so-called “Mischief Night” and Halloween was tomorrow, but he wasn’t particularly feeling it. He looked to his left at the mist over the diminished lake and couldn’t stop remembering what was gone. The dock that he’d ripped the bench from and tossed to the other shore was washed away. It was probably somewhere in the muddy pit with all the high-tech rubble from the buildings. The spot where he’d held up the pancaked concrete layers of the wrecked main building on his left shoulder while he, Rocket, and Rhodey waited those tense minutes for Scott to save the day was now under thirty feet of muddy water.

Tony’s estate wouldn’t be through probate for several months, but he, Pepper, Happy, and Rhodey had been meeting to rough out plans for the new and (as always) improved facility. He imagined it would be done before the legal will was read. Tony had left them a ton of ideas to go through, but they obviously had a jump on the demolition Bruce thought with a little bitterness.

The excavation and recovery effort had started immediately after the funeral, but with Scott’s help, Bruce had been the one to find most of Natasha’s things that were salvageable. To be honest, he was really just looking for some mementoes, something of hers to bury since they didn’t have a body. The ballet toe shoes and her third favorite sidearm seemed appropriate. Old Stanislaus, the maintenance worker who’d returned to duty the day after the battle, had offered to make a box for them. Bruce had brought him the bench he’d pitched since it was one of them Nat and he liked to sit on together when he first arrived back on Earth before he moved to his place in Bridgewater about forty minutes to the north.

His rural property was a quiet place, but it had a lot of old small-town charm and was within walking distance of anything he needed day to day. He’d also wanted to be part of a community and not a hermit. Happily, he’d found a home there in Bridgewater. Bruce had initially picked it because of the extensive grounds and the lack of zoning, so he was able to add cutting-edge lab spaces into the older gutted buildings yet still keep the overall appeal of the Arts and Crafts and Victorian exteriors. After his metamorphosis, he’d redone the interiors to a larger scale to match his increased size and height. Everything was off the grid and sustainable, so he was rather proud of that. At some point, he began to think of it as his permanent home.

Tony had even worked with him on modifying his Hummer HX and switching it over to run on a modified Arc Reactor. Bruce was really glad they’d been able to talk as they worked because they’d both felt like they were trying to get over breakups of a sort, yet really feeling guilty deep down for enjoying themselves and finding some normalcy and even joy after the Decimation. Little Morgan had never known him as anyone other than big, green Uncle Bruce, so she didn’t judge. Thankfully, Pepper hadn’t either. She and Tony both saw that he was finally comfortable as himself. No tip-toeing. No overwhelming fear of destroying those he loved. No debilitating pain from the transformations or from holding his larger form. In many ways, Bruce was at peace. With one huge exception, he was happy, too.

He never could get Natasha away from her station at the Avengers Compound, not even to see the gardens he’d added so naively three and four years ago for her. Rhodey had even offered to step in for her to take the helm at the Compound, so she and Bruce could spend some time together. That proposition had really brought things to a head, and Nat and he had quarreled . . . loudly, over her fixation with saving what was left of the universe and what it was costing her psychologically and physically. He had begged her to come with him, just for the weekend, for a day or two, no pressure, separate bedrooms, and she’d scornfully told him he was selfish. He only cared about himself and his desires.

Bruce had finally had enough. “They used to be your desires, too, Nat.” During the first three weeks after they’d killed Thanos, the two of them had started making plans, but the day he’d returned from his trip to Willowdale, Virginia, to see Leonard Samson and start therapy, she’d ignored and avoided him, acted like he was a complete stranger and then a leper. Not three days before that, he’d poured his heart out to her about needing to find a compromise between both halves. He’d explained that might require serious changes, a lot of digging down deep to find the root of their anger, if he was ever going be whole. She’d said she understood and would be his . . . _their_ partner in this journey. She sincerely wanted this for him . . . for both of them, and by extension their own relationship.

After he arrived back at the Compound from Virginia, her sudden coolness had shocked him. What had he done? He must have done something to offend her, but she’d never say. For crying out loud, they’d shared a bed for nearly two months! Suddenly, she wouldn’t even stay in the same room with him unless he physically cornered her. After a month of that icy treatment and tension, he’d been forced to embark on his journey alone. Maybe if she’d been there with them like she’d promised, the changes might have come about differently or seemed less drastic and more of an organic progression like he’d experienced them. Even if he couldn’t convince her to engage with them, they’d been very satisfied with the “upgrades” once the physical and mental integration process was complete. In 18 months, what was done was done. No going back. He was finally whole. Maybe he’d made it permanent to burn their bridges and give her the excuse to be repelled by his size, his color, his “monstrousness”? If she was really that shallow . . . Yet, the thing that still didn’t make any sense, the issue he couldn’t reconcile, was that she’d pursued him . . . waited for him . . . said she loved him and wanted a life with him. Bruce knew she’d been sincere, that she hadn’t lied to him. He would have known.

Yet, that day in the conference room, all of that frustration boiled over as she attacked him and refused to let him help her or give their relationship one last chance. Bruce had crossed his massive forearms across his chest and asked if she was too embarrassed now to even be seen with him much less touch him like she once had. Natasha admitted she was repelled by the sight of him because he’d “mutilated” himself. He didn’t even look human to her.

Bruce had left, but not before pointing out that he’d repeatedly asked for her input before he started, and she’d ignored him and his requests. Yes, maybe he was selfish, but he was willing to put in the hard work on himself to find some peace for him and safety for others. There was no “mutilation” unless she counted her cutting his heart out. Whether or not she approved of the results, he was happier and healthier than he’d been since 2003, maybe even before that. He did not feel guilty about that one bit. He’d asked her several times to go to counselling, and she’d made every excuse to avoid it. Where had her “mission” and her unnecessary martyrdom gotten her? Try looking in the mirror. She was a wreck inside and out. When she was ready to start living again, she knew where to find him. He’d be damned if he’d stand by and watch her slowly, needlessly kill herself any longer. After that, he’d taken a page from Tony’s playbook and mostly washed his hands of anything to do with Avenging.

He hadn’t seen her face-to-face again until Steve had called and asked him to come meet with him and Scott about a new possibility to science their way out of the Decimation, so Bruce had picked a diner where he’d been often enough they had a chair made especially for him. He’d been completely surprised when she walked in with Steve and Scott. Natasha looked even more chronically fatigued than before, but she was still beautiful to him. He’d half expected her to be “with” Steve, but their body language said otherwise. Bruce did his best to be cordial, which made him feel down right manic. He was in a good place, and when she threw out the line about what he’d done for himself having seemed impossible, Bruce didn’t fight her stoking his vanity and wrapping him around her little finger one more time. Despite how she’d treated him and abandon what they’d agreed they both wanted, he’d still loved her, and he still desired what they’d almost had. She’d meant that much to him. Now, he knew he’d never really been over her at all. _“‘Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.”_ He wasn’t so certain he agreed with Tennyson because he certainly hadn’t learned from the experience. He hadn’t moved on. Now, all he could do was mourn her, and it hurt.

Bruce took a deep breath and filled his large set of lungs with crisp morning air. Now, it was fall and the oaks and maples were finally showing their colors. Bruce walked the grassy strip with the blast crater on his right and the lake on his left. He was feeling melancholy, mostly because he was trying to plan Natasha’s memorial. He’d Skyped earlier that morning with Lee and talked to Betty for the first time since she’d been back. She’d returned to a son and daughter who’d jumped from three and five years old to eight and ten. Lee said that deep down he had held onto the hope she wasn’t lost, and it had paid off thanks to Bruce. Betty had thanked him, and Bruce was too happy for them to say anything. He was just thankful they’d had their reunion, their resurrection. She’d wanted to have a look at the arm, and he’d agreed to come down in a month or so. He’d already gone through two treatments with Helen and Shuri, which had the limb looking and functioning a lot closer to normal. Thankfully, Betty hadn’t given him any negative feedback about his looks or the “changes,” so at least he’d not had to deal with that. No doubt, Lee had given her a heads-up, but still, it was a kindness and he appreciated it.

Bruce had been having fun over the past week or so discovering what Shuri had packed into the Kimoyo Bead she’d given him. He was not wearing the glove or the prosthetic sleeve that morning because everything was healing so well. He used his scared right hand to roll the Bead on his left wrist to see what the new campus would look like via his glasses. The main building and visitor’s center would have Tony’s name on it, but the committee had agreed the Natasha Romanoff Training Facility would be the next biggest structure along with the new practice grounds. There would be a rose garden and a columbarium for remains, too. Later, they would probably add statues to keep Hap appeased, but Pepper, Rhodey, and he wanted to keep things simple here. Clint and Steve would probably agree with the majority. Thor had told him to be his proxy. There were already enough heroic statues planned elsewhere around the world.

Bruce wasn’t quite sure why he scanned back toward the left to the half-empty lake with its dissipating mists, but he was thinking of sitting on the dock with her, placing his arm around her shoulders and Nat leaning her head against the crook of his neck. They’d had plans. Maybe they’d have been able to patch things up once all the damn guilt-soaked red ink had been washed out of her ledger a hundred billion times over. Something set the Kimoyo Bead blinking and then it vibrated, so Bruce swung his attention back around and looked at the water left in the middle of the lake. It was a deep-water lake, so there was still well over a hundred feet of water in the middle beyond the 25-30 yards of sloping mudflats, gravel beds, and brush left exposed. He’d estimated it might take as long as a year for the lake to fill up naturally now that the shoreline had been mostly repaired.

Bruce tapped his earpiece to access the mobile interface in his glasses. “Friday, use the Bead’s sensors to analyze what set it off. I want to know what’s left in the center of the lake.”

“Aye, Dr. Banner, aside from rocks and detritus, it appears to be a metallic object about 25 x 20 meters. It may be a craft. Make and type, unknown. Possibly a type of . . . spacecraft,” the Interface informed him as it continued to gather data and analyze it. “That would be my best guess as to what it is, Sar. It seems to have been in place for an extended period of time, but has just recently ‘decloaked,’ for the lack of a better description.”

“Then it’s not Tony’s?”

If the Interface could have cleared its throat, it would have. “I think I’d recognize Mr. Stark’s work.”

“Sorry, Friday, I had to ask. Are you sure it’s not a Chitauri craft or something else left over from Thanos’ attack?”

“No, Doctor, it’s much smaller, too lightly armored: it’s only about eighteen tons and not at all like what previously did battle here. The sediment would indicate it’s been in place for a number of years.”

“Any idea what it’s doing here? Is there anyone in it?”

“Nothing conclusive yet, Dr. Banner. The metal makes scanning a challenge. Wait, an affirmative: there is one humanoid aboard. No detectable mechanical activity aside from life support though. Shall I try and establish contact?”

“Yes, and alert Colonel Rhodes and whomever else is closest . . . Get Fury if he’s available.”

A few tense moments passed as Bruce considered what to do. He wasn’t back up to fighting form yet, but he could summon the Hulk-Buster armor and a couple of others from storage at his place for backup if needed—Tony had those and more than a few other projects stored there in various stages of completion. He hoped Morgan or Peter or Harley would finish them with him.

Friday’s lilting voice finally reported back: “I’ve not been able to reach Colonel Rhodes because he’s on assignment, but I successfully contacted Fury. Ms. Maximov is on her way from New York City. Fury advises you to sit tight and wait till they arrive. He has contacted Carol Danvers as well.”

Great. The big gun. “All right, Friday. Is the mystery ship still just sitting there? No response?”

“No response to my . . . wait. I’m getting audio. I’ll patch it through . . .”

“Avengers? Anyone? Mayday. Hello . . . ?”

Bruce’s heart skipped a beat. No. It couldn’t be. “Nat?!”

“Bruce?”

“Yes, it’s . . . it’s Bruce. Oh, my God! What . . . ? Tell me what happened? How’d you get . . . ? No, just hold on. Can you move that thing out of the water?”

“It doesn’t exactly have instructions in English or Russian or anything I’ve seen before. It took me a while to figure out the comms.”

He thought back to his time on Sakaar. “Does it have am obvious dashboard?”

“Yes, I’m pretty sure that’s what this is.” He could detect a little of her old sarcasm creeping in.

“Do you see anything that looks like a flat control panel? Place your palm on it and see if it responds.”

“Done that, but I can’t read it. I’m not sure if this thing has weapons or where it is in relation to its surroundings. I don’t want to accidentally breach the hull or blow the hatch.”

He immediately thought of a certain dictator’s pleasure barge and fireworks. “Right. Okay, give me a few minutes. Don’t worry. I’ve got you!” Bruce stripped down to his blue boxers and strode quickly down the muddy, sandy slope to the water and dove in. Luckily, he was a good swimmer and the water was fairly clear again after all the upheaval. It was pretty cold, but that really didn’t affect him anymore. He’d been in the lake before but never explored the depths. It was mostly rocky outcrops until he reached the sand and gravel bottom. It didn’t take him long to find the odd beetle-like ship. At 25 x 20 meters, it was roughly twice the size of their standard model Avengers Quinjet, and the squat yet rounded design only vaguely reminded him of vessels he’d seen during their time on Sakaar.

Bruce was easily able to calculate its center point and dig through the loose gravel beneath so that he could lift it from the bottom. With his injured arm, he took his time since he had ample lung capacity. Compared to holding up all that wrecked reinforced concrete, raising the hull of an aerodynamic spaceship in the water was nothing. However, he certainly didn’t want to damage its structural integrity, so he took his time. As soon as the hull broke the surface, he felt it being lifted above him. Bruce could tell by the glowing red pyro techniques that Wanda had arrived. He swam to the shore and then leapt to catch up as the Scarlet Witch set the spacecraft down with ease on the grassy undamaged section of shore.

“I distinctly heard Fury say to sit tight until backup arrived,” Wanda chided Bruce. “You must be having trouble with your earpiece,” she added with a wink.

“Yeah, that must be it,” he agreed with a smile and a quick shrug as he rushed up to examine the vessel. He found what looked like the logical position for the hatch and rapped on the muddy skin of the ship with one knuckle. He swallowed hard, afraid to start hoping, “Nat? It’s safe now.” He didn’t have to wait long as a seam appeared around an oblong section of the hull a few feet off the ground.

“Did you say, ‘Nat’?” Wanda asked. Bruce only nodded anxiously, waiting to see if he’d found her or if he’d totally gone off the deep end literally and figuratively.

It seemed to take forever for the panel to retract, and Natasha was leaning there in the doorway, blinking in the sun light. Her hair was still mostly platinum blond and in a grown-out pageboy cut from five years ago, as it had been a few months after the Snap. She held her hand up to shade her eyes, and Bruce stepped forward to help her over the threshold. “Hulk? It’s you?” she asked.

“Uh, it is . . . but it’s also . . .”

“Bruce?” She’d recognized his voice immediately since it had mainly just changed in resonance.

He smiled tentatively at her correctly identifying him. “Yes, it’s . . . it’s Bruce.”

“Oh, my God! What . . . ? How’d you get . . . the same?” Her eyes darted up and down his wet verdant form and settled expectantly on his face, finding startling familiarity in his features.

“It’s kind of an involved story, but it’s both of us together. I’m still me though,” he insisted. She took ahold of his large hand and stepped over the threshold, jumped to the ground, and then wrapped her arms around his middle as far as they would go and hugged him fiercely. He carefully embraced her. Knowing it really didn’t matter if he got her wet, but she seemed so thin and fragile compared to how she’d looked just a few weeks ago—not as emaciated as Tony had been when he returned, but he knew she’d gone through something that had taken a very physical toll on her. What had happened to her? She didn’t know him, so was she the same person? “We thought you were dead, Nat. Gone. You and Clint went to Vormir to get the Soul Stone. You sacrificed yourself so he could bring it back and we could undo the Snap.”

“I’ve never heard of ‘Vormir.’ No, hold it. There’s a ghost on Vormir.” Her head felt like it would explode, but the answer wouldn’t quite come. “Where’s Clint?”

“At home with his family.”

“His family?! Did we do it?” she asked with excitement.

Wanda stepped forward and embraced her. “Yes! Almost everyone is back. Twelve, thirteen days ago, Bruce and the other remaining Avengers succeeded in retrieving the Stones from earlier time periods and undid the Snap.”

“You did it?” Natasha asked Bruce. He was so shocked taking in that she had to be real, all he could do was nod. “I knew you could!”

“We did, but Tony is gone,” he told her.

“No? How? He’d just gotten back from Thanos’ home planet,” Natasha gasped.

“He’d been back five years, Nat. Is that the last thing you remember?”

“We killed Thanos, but he’d destroyed the Infinity Stones. We’d been back from Wakanda right at seven weeks, and I was brainstorming with Okoye and setting up a way to work together cooperatively. We were debating whether or not to circumvent the World Council. Bruce, you’d just left to go see Leonard Samson in Virginia for a few days. Steve was moving out and getting his apartment set up in Brooklyn. I buzzed him in because he misplaced his code. He . . . he made me soup and a grilled cheese sandwich.”

Wanda looked at Bruce, “Steve can’t boil water without burning something. Everyone knows that.”

Bruce grimaced, “He did mostly okay with toast and hot cocoa mix.”

“Still, that doesn’t sound like Steve,” Wanda noted.

“By the way,” Natasha said as she started to look around them, “what the hell happened here?”

“Thanos,” both Wanda and Bruce said at once.

“One from the past. He pretty much bombed and destroyed everything but a few spots at the back, which is where we ought to take you to get checked out,” Bruce suggested.

“Hold it right there, you three,” said a stern feminine voice above them.

“Good to see you, too, Carol,” Bruce said evenly. She landed gracefully and strode straight for Natasha. Bruce reflexively stepped in front of her, “Hey, calm down. You know Nat.”

“That’s a Skrull ship,” Carol said, pointing at the dripping spacecraft. “It may not be Natasha. Stand down, Doctor.”

Bruce stood his ground. “Do not hurt her. She’s been through something worse than being Snapped.”

Natasha stepped around him. “It’s all right, Bruce. Captain Danvers knows more than we do about what may have happened to me.”

Bruce reluctantly stepped back, but he realized his scarred hand was clenched into a fist almost involuntarily and the Stones’ scars stood out bone white against his normal green skin tones. He made the effort to straighten his fingers as much as he could. Carol could be aggressive, but he understood they needed to err on the side of caution.

Natasha stayed calm as the taller woman stared her in the eyes with a narrowed gaze. Carol then reached out and held the back of her right hand to Nat’s forehead for a moment. “Okay, you aren’t a Skrull, but you may be running a temperature.” Carol gave Bruce an apologetic look. “Go ahead and get checked out at the triage barn.”

“Temporary Medical Facility,” Bruce corrected her as he stepped away to pick up his clothing, including the Kimoyo Bead and his glasses which he put back on. He hitched his thumb in the direction of the spaceship. “Are you going to check this out now?”

“Yes, I’m going to have a look-see. This isn’t like the Skrull military or civilian vessels I’m familiar with, but I’m hoping to find out something, like who it was that died on Vormir if this is the Natasha we’ve known.”

“This is the Natasha Romanoff I know,” Wanda affirmed. “I no longer meddle with minds, but I don’t find anything to contradict that.”

“You’d be surprised how good a Skrull impersonator can be, Wanda,” the former military officer noted. “Some of them can go so deep into another’s identity that they copy right down to the memories and behavior. They don’t even remember being a Skrull. In a few cases, the blood type and DNA will even match. If it weren’t for reproduction, there wouldn’t be a way to tell.”

“I’d like to take a look at the interior, Carol,” Bruce said. “Perhaps, it would make more sense to move it to the hanger, so it’s not sitting out here in the open.”

“Okay, that’s reasonable. Wanda, care to spot me?” Carol asked.

“Not a problem. Back behind the Quinjets?”

“Yeah, that’s probably the only spot left undercover,” Bruce said with a nod. “No reason to advertise we’ve found it.”

“I know it cloaks, but I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Nat said, feeling suddenly fatigued. Carol grinned and gave her a thumbs up as Wanda telekinetically lifted the ship with red tendrils of magical energy. Carol rose up and shouldered the weight in the same spot Bruce had, and the two women flew north by northwest toward the undamaged part of the property.

“Слава Богу,” Natasha said quietly and grasped Bruce’s arm for support.

“Hey, you don’t need to be the toughest there is around me,” he said and swept her up in his arms. “If you don’t mind holding the clothes, I’ll get us to the infirmary faster.”

“For the record, this is not ‘damselling’ me, Banner.”

“Nope, it’s accommodating me because I smell like Shrek after that swim. I also want to make sure you’re hydrated and everything else is okay.” Bruce leapt high in the air. It wasn’t flying, but he had practiced until he was good at landing with style and minimal damage to all parties and property concerned.

“You’re a lot more graceful than I remember, and not quite as big or the same shade of green either,” Natasha observed as he set her down outside the entrance to the temporary infirmary. “Not to be Captain Obvious, but your right arm looks like I feel, too.”

He held the door open for her and stooped just a bit as he entered the white, aluminum-framed building and the functional temporary space seasonally decorated with Halloween colors. He took back his pile of clothing from her as he straightened up. Bruce wasn’t sure he wanted to get into it here. “It was a compromise. I promise, we’ll talk later.” The staff EMT was approaching, so he let it drop for the moment. “Hey, Marsha, would you get started on a routine physical with Ms. Romanoff while I go take a quick shower to wash the pond scum off?”

Marsha was one of the newer hires, so she knew who Natasha Romanoff was but had never met her face-to-face. “Of course, Dr. Banner. Pardon me, Miss, but are you related to the woman who died?” she asked Natasha curiously.

Nat shot a quick look at Bruce who gave her a shrug as if to say it was her call. “We share the same DNA,” she replied cheerily.

Marsha took her answer at face value and then seemed to get a little distracted by the view of Bruce’s muscular backside disappearing down a hall as he sought out a shower in the locker rooms. His frame filled the corridor’s height, but not its width, which got Natasha wondering why he hadn’t changed back. The EMT showed Nat into one of the four examination rooms and gave her a nicer than average disposable gown. Marsha pulled a clear bottle of rehydration drink from a refrigerator in the hall and handed it to Natasha who gratefully accepted it. The thought of going nearly five years without brushing her teeth was just now sinking in. The medical professional paused before closing the door. “I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you at first, Ms. Romanoff. I need a scorecard lately to know who’s been ‘de-Snapped’ or blipped or come back or whatever people are calling it.”

Natasha didn’t correct the woman. “It’s bound to be confusing.”

“My cousin remarried a year ago and now her first husband is back. They have no idea what they’re going to do.” Natasha nodded sympathetically suddenly aware of what might have transpired while she was being impersonated. “Siblings are different ages, friends and relatives have died, people have moved on or died. It’s good that everyone is back, but it’s going to be a challenge feeding the population and getting the economy up to speed over the next couple of years.”

“It’s a lot to take in,” Nat admitted. They stood there awkwardly for a moment then Natasha asked. “What happened to Dr. Banner’s right arm?”

Marsha gave her a big conspiratorial smile, “Honey, he’s the one who wore the home team’s version of the Gauntlet and did the wishing and snap part. You should have seen it when we were treating people after the big fight. If it weren’t for the Wakandans, I imagine he would have lost it. Not to gossip, but I’ve heard he spent too long trying to bring someone he loved back, but he couldn’t. That’s why he was radiation burned and looked wasted away as bad as it did. If you think it looks bad now, you should take a look at the scans and pictures. He’s been to see a specialist in Seoul twice.”

“Probably, Helen Cho. How long has he been big and green and . . . not angry?”

“I’ve only worked here for about three months, but I live in Bridgewater where he’s lived for over four years now. Dr. Banner is kind of a celebrity because he performs a ton of civic and charity work as well as the superhero saving-the-world stuff, revamping the grid, and doing the YouTube videos. I couldn’t tell you what he looked like before, but he kind of has his own a . . . what’s the right term? Hulkies? You know, admirers, fans . . . followers? When the rest of the Avengers went into retirement or left public life, he’s been the one doing the civic pep talks and the expert testimonies and the superhero work post-decimation. I guess you have been away a while.”

Natasha chewed her lower lip and nodded. “He’s moved on then?”

“I’m not sure what you mean. Like everyone, he’s had to change and adapt. As I said, I didn’t know him before, but what’s not to admire in that package?” she asked with a conspiratorial wink. “He’s made _People Magazine_ ’s ‘Sexiest Man Alive List’ for the past three years.”

Nat smiled and nodded again, trying to imagine her shy, dorky guy doing all these things. “I’ll just get into this then,” she said and shut the door behind Marsha. The thought that she’d been wearing the same clothes for over four years was pretty revolting, but she’d definitely smelled worse. Apparently, being “frozen and thawed” from stasis hadn’t been too strenuous because she’d lost muscle mass. Clint was going to make a lot of jokes about that. There were wipes, a comb, and a new toothbrush and toothpaste on the counter, so she gratefully used them. She didn’t have her phone or she would have called him. Nat thought seriously about just leaving, but as she looked at her pale toneless body and felt the adrenaline surge dying, Natasha knew that would be stupid. She might feel like a disoriented, wounded animal, but this probably was the safest place for her right now. There would be lots of debriefing and she’d need someone besides Marsha, helpful as she’d been, to get her back up to speed. She looked at her reflection in the mirror over the sink and pictured her own face leaning over her with long grown-out red hair with blonde tips. Hers was still blonde except for her red roots that were way beyond needing a touchup. Maybe she should dye it back to her natural color and get a pixie cut like Carol’s?

There was a knock at the door, and she told them to come in as she climbed up on the examination table. Marsha had Bruce with her and Nat’s eyes locked on him. His hair was still wet, but he’d clearly run a comb through it and kept his glasses on. His skin was an unusual shade of lighter green—jadeite, maybe—but his eyes were the ‘Banner brown’ she’d fallen in love with when they’d first met in Kolkata when he’d called her on her bluff. Now, there was an excited sparkle to them as soon as his gaze landed on her. He’d shaved and as he stepped further into the room, his warm familiar smell was the same as the man she remembered. She’d missed him so much. Her eyes started to tear up, and he looked at her with concern.

“Nat, what’s wrong?” Bruce stepped in closer and stood next to her. His head nearly touched the ceiling before he bent down to be more on her level. Marsha scooted a reinforced custom stool to him and left the room, so they could be alone. Bruce sat down on it so that they could see eye to eye. He noted how she was looking at him like she was trying to get her head around his altered appearance. He’d received that look from both friends and strangers, but it was a bit distressing to see it on her face. “Hey, Nat, it’s me. I know I’m different, but I’m still the guy who absolutely adored and worshipped you five years ago. I promise you the changes I made are for the better. I’m so much healthier inside now. I don’t hate myself anymore. Please talk to me.”

“You look so much happier. You moved on?” she asked.

“I moved _forward_. I had to so I could find some inner peace. I’d been at war inside for nearly two decades tearing myself apart. I was making myself mentally and physically ill. I had to do something before I hurt any more people. I had to do this to help others the way I always wanted.” He’d clearly thought long and hard about this, and it was consistent with what she remembered.

“I understand. I know we talked about what you needed to do. That’s why you were going to meet with Samson. I guess I was there for the very beginning of the process, but not the rest.”

Bruce smiled and nodded. “You were. You helped give me the impetus to start moving forward. I wanted to be the best me possible to be with you. I can tell you more, but I’d rather do that someplace other than an examination room. Also, Fury will be here pretty soon, and I’m sure he’ll want to ask you a few questions before he and Carol start pulling that prison barge apart.”

“They can have at it as far as I’m concerned,” she said tiredly.

“Let’s move you over there on the scan pad and get you analyzed, take some blood samples, and Wanda should be back with some clothes soon, so you can clean up before we deal with Fury. Sound like a plan?”

“Sounds like a damn fine plan.” Natasha took a chug of her drink before he could get on her for that.

“Good,” he reassured her and gave her a warm smile that she’d seldom seen Bruce give with such confidence before. It was like Hulk’s when she told him to “Go be a hero.” He walked her through the new scanning technology that he’d developed after seeing some of the unique medical equipment in Wakanda the first time. All four examination rooms had sets of the scanning pads mounted on the floor and ceiling, which took then uploaded the collected data into a core that did the analysis and produced graphics and models using the information and its database. It also gave diagnoses, made recommendations, and set up therapy, health, and exercise plans on request. He told her he’d started a nonprofit to donate the technology to rural health clinics, which had been first decimated by the loss of doctors and medical professionals then inundated with urban refugees as populations shifted out to more rural areas, so people could raise their own food.

“I’m surprised it doesn’t take blood samples, too,” Natasha noted as he showed her the preliminary results. She’d lost just over 12 pounds, most of it muscle mass like she’d thought.

“I don’t want to put Marsha out of a job. There is a certain art to phlebotomy that I have no desire to leave up to a machine, even ODMAaD. Believe me, I let it stick me in the wrong spots enough to know.”

“Odd Maud?”

“On Demand Medical Analysis and Diagnosis. ODMAaD. I didn’t let Tony name it.” Natasha chuckled as she remembered BARF. Even Tony agreed that was a horrible acronym.

Bruce opened the door and called, “Hey, Marsha-Marsha-Marsha!”

“Coming, Jan or Mike or Cindy or whoever,” the EMT replied from the front.

“Tiger,” Natasha suggested.

“Oh, I see what you did!” Bruce laughed.

“I’ll be Alice if you be Sam the Butcher,” she teased.

“I will always be the Sam to your Alice or even your Diane. All you have to do is ask,” he said more seriously.

“All right, let’s see that arm,” the EMT said as she came back into the examination room. “You two are clearly having too much fun in here.” Natasha took another drink and offered up her left arm. Marsha was mercifully quick. Bruce’s phone pinged with a text and he excused himself for a minute and came back with Wanda who was carrying, a large overstuffed duffel bag.

“I think I’ve arrived just in time if this is how you dress her, Bruce,” Wanda said shaking her head with mock seriousness. “Come on, Nat, let’s go get you cleaned up and dressed in something more fashionable—low bar that it is.”

“We’ll have most of the blood work done before you get back,” Bruce assured her.

Nat followed Wanda back down the hall and then down the other one Bruce had taken to go clean up. “Have they poked and prodded you enough yet?” the magic-user asked.

“No more than necessary so far,” Natasha said stoically. “Have they worked on Vis yet?”

“Bruce and Shuri are using Tony’s notes to try and design a power source first. Helen is updating his neural network with Shuri’s design methods. It’s going to take a couple of months before they try uploading any programming.”

“How are you holding up?”

“Okay for now. I’m training with Stephen Strange, so that has kept me busy. That’s how I was able to get here ahead of Carol,” Wanda said with a chuckle.

“What do you think of her?” Natasha asked.

Wanda opened the door to the women’s locker room and motioned her friend inside. After she’d made sure they were alone, Wanda explained, “I’ve not known her any longer than you, but she likes to take charge and she’s very competitive . . . and competent. They tell me that most of the time, she’s out policing the universe, so internal conflicts have not been an issue here. With Tony gone, Steve retired, and Thor elsewhere, we’ll have to see how things work out. If you respect her, she seems to respect you. I like her, but she can be as headstrong and stubborn as anyone.”

Natasha nodded, “She seems to know what she’s doing. Competence is always a solid quality for leadership.”

Wanda set the leather duffle on a bench in front of some wire mesh lockers. “True. She’s a good solo act. We’ll see if she’s suited to do more leadership-wise. I hope I picked out something that’s to your taste. Bruce said to get you the basics, but I think I know your style better than that.” She unzipped the bag and pulled out a plastic shopping bag of toiletries from a local drugstore chain. “I phoned this one in and the clerk had it ready to go, so these I won’t take credit for.” Underneath was a pair of black cross-trainers. “I’m pretty sure I got the shoe size right. Your boots look like they held up better than your clothes anyway.”

Natasha looked through the wardrobe’s worth of clothing filling the luggage. “Wow, I think you got me covered!” She held up a black lacy camisole and looked at Wanda questioningly.

“It goes under anything or you can sleep in it. There are matching panties and a bra. I got them in a couple of colors. Bruce will like them, too,” she added with a sly look. Wanda pulled out a pair of black skinny jeans. “See, there are more practical and exercise things at the bottom. Now, go get in the shower before they send Marsha in here after us.”

Nat stripped out of her hospital gown, then snatched up the soap, shampoo, conditioner, lotion, a razor, a washcloth, and a fluffy towel before retreating into a shower stall. The water warmed up quickly and felt good on her even paler than normal skin as she scrubbed off all the dead layers and unpleasantness she could. It was worse than when she had a cast removed from a healed limb when she was young. _Five years_. She’d lost five years. She reminded herself that Wanda had too, and she was waiting to see if Vision could be resurrected. Would he be the same? Shuri had made an emergency download of his consciousness, and Nat knew Tony had to have something of JARVIS left somewhere. Vis likely wouldn’t be the same, but Wanda still held out hope he’d be back.

 _Five fucking years_. What the hell had happened with this fake Natasha fooling everyone so well? The creature had worn her clothes, slept in her bed, interacted with her friends. Bruce had been careful not to mention her, and she wasn’t sure if she was ready to hear what had happened between them. He said he hadn’t moved on, he’d moved _forward_. Had he done it alone?

Bits and pieces of her interactions with her doppelganger came filtering back. The fake had asked who Bruce was to her, then had returned, again and again, to go deeper and deeper into her identity because the Skrull needed to absorb enough of her essence to pass, to become her. Did she want to know why?

Natasha shaved her legs and other more sensitive places as quickly as she could without cutting herself. She still nicked her ankle and was oddly relieved to see she bled the right shade of red. She shut down the water and toweled off. Wanda had laid out a change of clothing on the bench: the black jeans, the lacy black camisole thing with matching bra and panties, socks, and a red leather jacket she recognized. “Where did you find my old jacket?”

Wanda grinned sheepishly. “I borrowed it and forgot to return it. I thought you might want to have it back now.”

“Thank you!” Nat quickly pulled her new clothes on and picked up the jacket to hug and smell the mink oil and leather. “You took good care of it,” she admitted. They both chuckled at that. For once, bad habits had paid off.

“Romanoff! That better be you,” a deep voice boomed from the outer hall doorway.

“Fury, that better be you,” she responded as she finished tying her shoes. “We’re decent if you want to come in.”

“I’ll wait out here.”

“Go ahead. I’ve got this,” Wanda urged her. Nat rushed out the door to find Nick just as he looked the last time she’d seen him in dark civilian clothes with dark glasses. Some things seemed to always stay consistent.

“Well, how’d I lose my eye?” he demanded.

Natasha squinted at him narrowly. “You never told me,” she shot back, “but Barton said it was in a cat fight.”

“Good answer.” Nick grabbed her in a bearhug. “I’m not sure how you got so lucky, but I’m glad you did.”

“Dumb, stupid luck,” she agreed.

“Danvers is getting what she can from the ship’s computers. This was a different group of Skrulls than she’s worked with before, so we’re not sure about the motives yet. They apparently sent their best spy to replace my best spy. He seems to have been highly skilled and done his homework before infiltrating and basically becoming you.”

“Did you say, _HE_?”

“Danvers says their best imitators are usually males. Some of them can even manifest superpowers that mimic their victim’s abilities.”

“That explains a lot. That’s why Carol mentioned reproduction, too. Oh, boy!” Natasha started laughing. For some reason, it just seemed really funny.

“I’m going to let you explain that to the good doctor,” Fury responded dryly.

“Bruce is going to laugh more than I am. He won’t have a problem either if that’s what you’re hinting. It’ll probably make him happy to know there were plenty of reasons not to feel guilty.”

Nick looked at her and shook his head. Banner had said she was doing remarkably well for someone who was essentially bedridden for over four and a half years, but Fury knew she needed some serious downtime and someone to keep both eyes on her and make sure she had a lot of TLC. He already had his volunteer picked out, the same guy he’d had his money on for about two decades now. “Tell you what, the person with the closest place is Dr. Banner. Do me a favor and go with him when he asks and take a week, take two, and we’ll come by and talk when you’re good and ready.”

“Are you sure? I can talk to you now while my memory is the freshest.”

“Write it down or record it. That’s good enough for now.”

“Okay,” she said, feeling a bit puzzled.

“Skype Barton when you get the chance,” Nick added.

“That’s my plan. Is it okay to call Steve?”

Fury gave a dismissive huff, “Why not?”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’ll let him explain it.”

“Ooookay.” Now she was afraid to ask.

Wanda cleared her throat and handed the full duffel bag to Fury, who rolled his eye but refused to let Natasha take it when she reached for it. “Sorry, I have to go or I wouldn’t have dumped it on you.”

“Too busy playing sorcerer’s apprentice to even say, ‘Boo,’ hmm?” Fury accused playfully as he shouldered the bag.

“I’m due to teach a class at Hogwarts in 15 mins.” Wanda hugged Natasha. “Bruce has my number. Take my advice: don’t wait to be happy. The world is never going to give you a perfect time. Don’t push him away. Promise?”

“I promise,” she whispered.

Wanda looked at Fury, “You do a better job this time and let them have a month! They’ve more than earned their space.”

Fury held up his hands defensively, “I’m on board with that.”

“Good.” Wanda gestured and opened up a sparkling gold disk out of thin air to form a portal to someplace where the sun was either rising or setting, and she was quickly gone.

“Hogwarts?” Fury asked.

Natasha shrugged. “You gave her shit first. Come on, let’s go talk to the Big Guy.”

Bruce had her results charted in 3D for her in the examination room. “For someone who has probably seen enough stasis-related ‘freezing and thawing,’ your numbers look pretty good, but you’re not going to be taking a stress test until next week. The good news is your bone density hasn’t suffered,” Bruce noted. He’d been concerned about that due to her physical confinement.

“But . . . ?” Natasha asked.

“You’re borderline anemic, so you’ll need to take a supplement and follow some dietary recommendations,” he explained. “It also wouldn’t hurt to spend a little time in the sun and gradually ease back into physical activities. Think you can handle that?”

She smiled and nodded, “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

“Uh, if you’re okay with it, since there isn’t exactly a replacement for your apartment here yet, I do have plenty of room back at my place in Bridgewater, and I could keep an eye on you, make sure you eat the right foods and take some vitamins.” He gave her a familiar shy smile. “I have several spare rooms. No pressure. Bigger screen TV than Tony’s.”

“I bet you have a garden.”

“Two or three and a greenhouse. And a dog. The dog isn’t negotiable.”

“Of course not.”

“There’s a cat, too, but it does what it wants.”

“Because it’s a cat,” she wryly suggested.

“At least it works for a living.”

“I could live with that.”

Fury interrupted, “Okay, before you two start negotiating bathroom space or picking out a china pattern, this is for _you_ to carry now.” Nick handed the duffle bag over to Bruce. “Record anything you remember, Romanoff. Doctor, good to see you again. I’ll check back with you both in a few weeks.” With that, Fury excused himself and left the two of them standing in the room together.

“What’s the dog’s name?” she asked.

“Sirius. He’s a black mix: mastiff, poodle, pony, shepherd, couch potato, and something else.”

“Not Fang or Fluffy?”

“You’ll know when you meet him. Before you ask, the cat’s name is Gertrude. She came with it. I call her Gertie. She doesn’t always grace us with her presence. Sirius knows she’s the boss.”

“The question is, do you?”

He raised an eyebrow in challenge. “You’ll find out if you come.”

“Now, how could I possibly turn that down?”

She’d not seen a more pleased or happier smile in her life. “Grab your boots then, and we’ll go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my Beta-Readers, Autumn_Froste and EmilyGracie13! Next up, "Part 4: Heading Home." I'm keeping this short, but I hope you like it. I really struggled with the OOC way Natasha reacted to Bruce and the way he seemed to ignore her discomfort in the diner scene that introduced "Smart Hulk," so I did my best to try and reconcile what little we had in the film with what would have been in character with Bruce and Natasha's story arcs before the Ripoff Bros. dropped the ball. 
> 
> I know some people are having a hard time imagining Natasha being with a bigger and greener version of Bruce. I'm sorry if you're "revolted" or "repulsed." One of several reasons I'm angry with Markus & McFeely is the remarks about Nat not needing the "complications of a two-thousand-pound boyfriend" with "Eeew, yuck!" implied. Their body shaming of Thor and Bruce is simply inexcusable. Taste and preference are subjective. Condemning, ridiculing, and belittling people for their physical appearance and size--yes, even men--is not acceptable. I will not do that here. I do not think Natasha is such a shallow character that she would reject Bruce because he'd physically changed. The ILM techs confirmed that he's 7' 5" and estimates for his weight vary from 600-1,200 lbs. because of his density. Aside from the weight, he's still within human standards. I'll leave it at that for now.
> 
> If you'd like to see the cover edits for each chapter, check out my Pinterest board: https://www.pinterest.com/borahrs/my-bruce-x-natasha-edits/fanfiction/
> 
> Comments, questions, and commiseration are always welcome! Please give a like, a follow, a kudo, a review, a share, a tweet, and tell your friends to give it a read!


	4. Part Four: Ongoing Relationship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's still Monday, Oct. 30, 2023. Finally, Bruce and Natasha have some alone time. We make it to the parking lot and the Hummer HX. Natasha and Bruce have a lot to discuss and feelings to work through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We finally earn our mature rating. In case you didn't notice the title (yah, I changed it), I'm playing around with tropes and things Mark and Scarlett have said about the OTP. If you're not familiar with Anita Baker's version of "Body and Soul," (written by Ellen Shipley and Rick Nowels, 1994) you might want to have a listen first on YouTube. You might also want to play "I Can't Get Started" for good measure. If you've forgotten why that's Bruce and Nat's song, go watch the bar scene in Age of Ultron and listen to the background music. Joss Whedon knows his stuff! I'll recommend the Chet Baker version.

“What is this exactly?” Natasha asked as Bruce helped her into the front passenger seat of his very large dark gray vehicle.

“Tony called it ‘Hummerstein’ but it’s a custom extension build on a prototype HX for which I probably paid too much. That was before we switched out the gas engine for a modified arc reactor.” He sighed contemplatively. It still felt odd to think of his Science Bro and good friend in the past tense.

Bruce got in on his side and settled behind the wheel, buckled up, and pushed the ignition button on the dash with his right thumb. It took a little effort, but he was managing to shift smoothly with his right arm again. Helen had given him the okay to drive a few days ago since the Vibranium-enhanced grafts were bonding so well. He supposed he could have just jumped about twenty times and made the commute under his own power, but it generally messed up his civilian clothes and did a little damage to the landscape. Besides, he enjoyed driving, so why not?

The introduction to “Body and Soul” by Anita Baker began to play over the impressive sound system. Nat simply raised a questioning eyebrow at him. Bruce looked a little embarrassed, but only switched the volume down a bit. “I like this one too much to torture you with my singing,” he said. They both sat and listened for minute.

What have you done to me?  
I can’t eat, I cannot sleep,  
And I’m not the same anymore, no, no.

I don’t know what to do  
‘Cause all of me wants all of you.  
Do I stand alone at the shore now?

Once I could turn away  
From everything I feel today,  
But now I wanna walk through your door.

But I’ve got to know, oh, body and soul,  
That you’ve got no doubt, inside and out  
We are whole, ho, body and soul.

Don’t leave me out in the cold  
Just love me body and soul  
Do you hear me, baby?

Bruce finally turned to Natasha, “I want you to be honest with me, okay? If anything makes you uncomfortable for whatever reason, please tell me, and I will back off. The last thing I want you to do is feel pressured or . . .” Natasha unbuckled her seatbelt, and he fell silent, looking as if the world had dropped out from under him, but she didn’t unlock her car door. Instead, she closed the distance between them and ducked under his right arm, so she was sitting in his lap, facing him with her back mostly to the wheel.

He sighed with relief and Natasha took off his glasses and laid them on the dashboard. She reached out for him and took Bruce’s face in both her hands and pressed her forehead to his. They slowly rubbed their faces together and touched, silently reintroducing themselves. She’d always had this lovely citrus and floral smell like no one else, and he thought back to the last morning they’d spent together, before the alarm clock had gone off and he’d had to leave for Virginia and his sessions with Lee Samson.

Just a few days before, they’d had a small birthday/apartment-warming party for Steve at his new place in Brooklyn. He’d lived with Sharon off and on while he and Sam had been in hiding and on the run, but this was the first time he’d had a place completely on his own because she’d been snapped. Now, since the population was halved, he finally had a place back in the old neighborhood once again. It was all rather bittersweet.

Several people were leaving the Avengers Compound, and Bruce had met with the Bridgewater Town Council the previous week to discuss redeveloping the Old Textile Mill Property along the Hendrix River at the town’s edge. It would be an easy commute to the Compound, but it felt like it was a world away. He planned to show it to Natasha and get her opinion the next week. Bruce hoped she’d like it as much as he did and want to live with him there, at least part of the time. The attached house and grounds had real potential to become a home, something they’d both agreed they wanted.

She’d playfully rolled him over on his back at about 5:00am and kissed him awake, starting with his stomach and nipples and working her way up. They’d slept in the same bed long enough for this to have become a pattern. What nature hadn’t already done for him, Natasha’s fingers and mouth quickly inspired. He’d reached for a condom, and she’d quickly sat up and plucked it out of his hand. He’d learned she liked to do that, too. “In a hurry, are we?” Bruce asked as he stretched his arms over his head and arched his back as she worked on him.

“I don’t like to waste natural resources,” she teased and stroked him firmly before unrolling the condom over his substantial morning erection.

“Ah, so now I’m a natural resource, like what? Water?”

“Last night I’d have said the Energizer Bunny.”

He chuckled. “That’s not a resource, but it is renewable.”

“Wood. Good strong lumber. That’s what I’m interested in.”

Bruce had laughed and rolled her onto her back in turn. “I guess I’ll just have to put it to use then.” She’d wrapped her left leg over his hip and guided him into her. He already had a thing about watching her come. The way she blushed when she climaxed and how she clamped down on him were enough to get him off, but he’d learned if he held out, he could usually get her to orgasm more than once. That morning he’d taken his time kissing and touching her as he moved slowly in and out, which he knew drove her nuts. Soon she was begging him to take her harder. “Wrap your other leg around me, Love,” he’d told her and angled his thrusts to hit deeper and find the right spot.

The friction, the feel of their bodies molded together and pressing against each other were all he’d imagined having with her and so much more. She dug her nails into his back, spurring him on to harder, deeper thrusts. Before long, she’d tightened and trembled then cried out his name, and he savored the feel of her luscious walls undulating in waves around him. Bruce held still, watching her as she relaxed before he balanced on just his left arm, so he could reach down and apply the right amount of teasing pressure to her clit with his moistened fingers. Nat gasped with surprise and pleasure as he brought her off again with several quick thrusts and came pressed deep inside her. “Oh, wow! I hope I didn’t break the condom,” he said anxiously.

“You are so awful, Banner,” Natasha said breathlessly as he extricated himself and collapsed beside her. “Even if you did, you’re not going to hurt me.”

He checked the condom. “I think it’s okay. I just want to keep you safe.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Hey, you woke me up with a request. The least I can do is deliver, especially since I’m leaving you here all weekend by yourself. Are you sure you don’t want to fly down with me and see what’s going on between here and Virginia? Have some hotel sex?” Bruce teased.

“You’re really tempting me, but Okoye and Carol have worked hard to get this virtual conference set up, and so have you from the technical end. There’s a lot to keep me occupied.”

“Remind me to be a little less competent next time.” He’d gotten up and taken a shower. A half an hour later, he kissed Natasha on her right shoulder and behind her ear before he left. “I love you, Nat,” he whispered, fully expecting to take up where they’d left off when he returned from Willowdale three days later. She’d never slept in that bed with him again.

I’ve wasted too much time  
Livin’ for what wasn’t mine,  
And then came the day I found you.

And now I want nothing less.  
I’ve found a love that is truly blessed,  
And I wanna make dreams come true.

But I’ve got to know, oh, body and soul,  
That you’ve got no doubt, inside and out,  
We are whole, ho, body and soul.

Bruce realized he was trembling as they touched, and he really didn’t want to go to pieces there in the Compound’s parking lot. He closed his eyes and simply held her, feeling amazingly lucky and ‘truly blessed,’ as the song said. He found himself smiling again because she was really back, and she was finally coming home with him.

Natasha let go and leaned back to look at him. “I don’t know what the hell this Skrull put you through,” she said, “but I intend to do my damndest to make up for all this time we’ve lost.” His eyes were still the same beautiful brown with just a hint of copper-green in their depths, even if his face was now a little of him and a little more Hulk with his strong square jaw and verdant coloring. Bruce had always been handsome and rugged in a very masculine way behind those dorky glasses, so their blended features still looked pleasing and familiar to her once she got used to the surprise of the integration. He seemed to smile a lot more easily and enthusiastically now like he’d found the meaning to some inner secret and it amused him.

Don’t leave me out in the cold,  
Just love me body and soul.  
Every day is getting better.

The more I trust, I feel stronger, stronger,  
Every kiss brings me closer.  
It feels good to let you inside.

I’ve got to know, oh,  
Is there any doubt in your mind, oh, yeah,  
Oh, baby, ho, ho, body and soul.

Natasha placed her right hand on his temple as she so often had before, and Bruce leaned into it like he always had in the past. He definitely ran a little warmer now. His greenish skin flushed with pink undertones as she felt his pulse quicken, his heart beating faster in his robust chest underneath his light blue shirt. She guessed he probably had a 28-inch neck, so no doubt he kept a tailor busy. His physical hints of growing excitement verified for her he had been telling the truth when he said he still loved her and found her attractive. She stroked his face with both hands again before she kissed his right cheek and then his lips. He responded the same tentative way as when they’d kissed while they were headed to Wakanda. It was a pattern of his she recognized: encourage him and get a careful but positive response; encourage him again and he absolutely rushed to match her move for move.

Don’t leave me out in this cold.  
Just love me body, hey, love,  
I’ve got to know, oh.

Bet your dollar, baby, yeah, oh, oh, ho,  
Is there any doubt in your mind?  
Tell me, baby, tell me, darlin’, body and soul.

Now, his damaged right hand settled on her hip and covered her backside, gently kneading the flesh and muscles that had lost their tone while her life was on hold. It was injury meeting injury: their own flesh sacrificed on an alter neither of them initially chose. Nothing seemed fair. She decided both of them had completely balanced their damned books. The red was now in the universe’s ledger, not theirs. Thanos understood nothing about balance nor perfection. Life wasn’t a pair of scales or a pendulum or a set of account books. She rejected those metaphors today. Now, they were free to find something new.

Though the size ratio took a little getting used to, Natasha noted his lips and tongue almost felt the same, just more to touch and caress and taste. He was still gentle, but most of the nervous energy and skittishness had been replaced with a feeling of deeper strength and quiet confidence. Natasha was pleased to find they weren’t that far away from where they’d left off nearly five years ago as they had started to explore the idea of being together and taking pleasure in each other. The attraction was still there and the passion had reignited.

Just let me, love me.  
Just let me, love me body and, and soul.  
Oh, oh, oh, oh, yes,  
Body and soul, soul.  
Body and soul, soul.

For his part, Bruce felt hopeful. He knew his capacity to love had grown as he learned to forgive and accept all of himself. He wanted and desired her, all of him did, and he prayed she felt the same way about him. Just the touch of skin to skin with her was almost rapturous as they continued to kiss. Bruce admitted to himself that he missed this human connection with her even more than he’d thought. Maybe that hunger and emptiness didn’t compare to what many others suffered, but he’d denied and mortified himself like Saint Simeon balanced atop his lonely pillar for most of his adult life. No more. They deserved whatever happiness they could make.

Before, Bruce had never been one to touch others casually because of his childhood abuse, and after the accident, caution had always been absolutely necessary. He’d lived uncomfortably in his own skin with his autistic tendencies magnified by his fears and self-loathing, craving the human contact he felt he had to deny himself. Just over three years ago, he’d taken the steps to splice their genes and make them a stable, pain-free body without the physical need to transition. His Hulkish side quickly helped him discover they genuinely liked human interactions with others. Bruce found he liked other people and didn’t shrink from a crowd like he once did because of the sensory overload or fear of what he might do. He also thought about the cheering fans on Sakaar appreciating what Hulk did best. Remembering this also left him feeling the acuteness of his isolation on Earth, so he’d rejected the loneliness and chose to open himself up and embrace whatever life sent him. He didn’t have to hide or settle for things that made him miserable. Whereas the false Natasha had chosen to isolate herself then chosen and fought to die, Bruce had made the choice to become whole and live.

That was in the back of his mind as the instrumental music played on and they touched and kissed, finding their way back together and forging a new path forward. Bruce sensed Natasha was feeling the same way, running her hands through his hair, drawing him closer, opening him up. Her lips and then tentatively her teeth and tongue explored him. He shifted his good hand up to support her back and neck, following her encouragement with playful nips and mouthing of her earlobes. Five years of this they’d been denied. They’d both deserved better.

Her left hand shifted to his neck and wandered down to his shoulder inside his shirt, detecting the unique texture of the healing skin and deeper tissues. She waited till he tilted his head to look at her as they caught their breath. “So, rumor has it that you fried yourself worse than you needed because you were trying to bring someone back.”

“Well, yes, but apparently it was a Skrull and the one I wanted was doing a Sleeping Beauty a few hundred yards away,” he retorted.

“Rapunzel, maybe.” She’d rather think of herself as somewhat active, even if she’d been in a type of stasis. After all, she had tried to break out.

“Ariel or Merida then?”

She shook her head. “Ah, how about _As You Like It_?

An amused smile crept across his face. “Really? Shakespeare? That connection you’ll have to explain to me.”

She grinned. He was usually the one making literary references. “Mistaken identities . . . Crossdressing.”

Bruce thought for a moment, “Crossdressing?”

“Mmm-hmm . . .” she nodded.

Then what she was hinting at dawned on him, “Ooohhh. The Skrull?”

She cocked her head and drawled, “Yeeess.”

He threw his head back and rolled his eyes, “HAHAHAHA!!! That is too hilarious!”

“I told Fury you’d think it was funny.” She allowed herself a small smirk. Yes, she still knew him, and they both had some appreciation for irony. The laughter took away some of the remembered pain as details continued to sink in for her.

When Bruce caught his breath, he had to wipe away a tear from laughing too hard. “That explains so much. Funny and sad, too. Honestly, at the time I could not figure out what I did wrong because she, he, whatever shut everything down as soon as I came back from that preliminary visit with Samson. You remember we were going to talk and have dinner?” Natasha nodded. She’d been looking forward to the discussion and the mutual planning that should have followed. “I made pasta with puttanesca sauce and waited and waited and then called. Skrull Natasha finally got there and said she’d already eaten, so what did I want?” He closed his eyes, reliving the moment of sudden disbelief. He shook his head to clear it away. “This all makes so much more sense now because, frankly, it was pretty devastating then.”

“I’m so sorry, Bruce.” For nearly five years he’d thought she’d inexplicably pulled the plug just as good things had started to happen for them.

“No, I should have known it wasn’t you. I remember reaching across the table to hold hands, and you’d have thought I tried to burn her. Cold as ice, and I didn’t understand why.” He closed his eyes for a moment before making eye contact again, “I just found it a whole lot easier at the time to dwell on what I might have done wrong than question her behavior or credibility.” Natasha hugged him around the neck, and he stroked her back as they mutually comforted one another.

“I’m so sorry you went through that,” she whispered in his ear.

“It’s not your fault. I should have known.”

“Hey, listen, Doc. This wasn’t something on any of our radar. Not that many people outside of the top level of S.H.I.E.L.D. even knew about shape-shifting Skrulls, and Fury was dusted at the time. I only knew a few ‘as needed’ details and rumors. Even if you’d suspected something about fake Skrull me, hardly anyone would have known what to look for except Carol.” She still wasn’t sure how Danvers could detect a Skrull impersonator, but Nat remembered the last thing Carol had done was check her forehead, presumably for body temperature or maybe just her reaction. Her double’s hands had always been cold.

“You’re right,” Bruce agreed, “and Carol’s mission is off-planet 99% of the time. She had only known you a few weeks, and she mainly communicated via holo-projection after that.” Bruce shook his head, “Well, Skrull Natasha was good at distancing me, but she did a lot of what you do well because she brought people together, so they could share resources and make decisions about policing the post-Snap universe.” He paused a moment, “It seems like these Skrulls weren’t working directly against us, so why replace you? I’m not sure why having someone in your position was optimal for them?”

“Well, it’s not like I have superpowers they’d need to fake, and I was probably easier to pickoff because I was by myself. I guess people could see me getting obsessed and then segregating myself. Maybe the Skrulls thought having their own ringer at the table was preferable to revealing themselves and asking for a seat?”

“Maybe they thought if we were together, it would distract you too much from performing your job? Or . . . I don’t know. It just feels so personal, the way they targeted you. Yet, on the other hand, they kept you alive, and when it came to making the sacrifice, Clint said that’s what your double did to save everyone.”

“Well, as a fellow spy, cashing out big at the end and cancelling all that ‘debt’ would have to be pretty attractive, sickly romantic even. If the Skrull imprinted on me, it likely just reinforced that desire for ultimate redemption.” Had they though she wouldn’t “be the one to lay on the wire,” as Steve had once put it. They didn’t think she would sacrifice herself? Frankly, she agreed with what Tony had shot back at the once-perfect soldier, “I’d cut the fucking wire!”

“That pretty much supports what Clint said happened,” Bruce admitted sadly.

“Wait. What about Clint? Did he get pushed away, too?” Natasha wondered.

“He had a really tough time after the Snap. Remember, his whole family was gone. You were trying to get ahold of him, but he just disappeared.” Bruce swallowed hard. “When he showed back up months later on our radar, it was not good. He’d gone rogue and was taking his anger out on some pretty bad operatives, murders, drug dealers, but it was more and more brutal each time. He killed a lot of people.”

Natasha sat there horrified at what had happened to her friend, but it fit the fragments of her conversation with the fake her. If the Skrull had felt conflicted about pushing Bruce away, he seemed to have felt worse about not confronting Clint because he knew she would have. By the time Scott showed up, the Skrull had years of practice and had absorbed enough of her personality and patterns of thinking to pull off passing as her face to face with the two people to whom she was closest. She suddenly felt tired. It was amazing he’d let her live after that. He’d said something about it not being sporting, and he wanted to give her a chance to get her life back. Somehow, she felt thankful, but at the same time, so very angry at what she’d had taken away.

“Are you okay?” Bruce had been watching her closely. She wasn’t the easiest person to read, but he was quickly warming back up to the art. “I think we should probably get you home, Nat.” He gave her another hug before she slipped back into her seat and buckled the seatbelt again. Bruce waved at the security guard at the back gate, and they were soon on the paved two-lane road. While he was using his right hand to shift, she placed her left one on his right thigh. He smiled at her and rested his hand gently on hers after they reached the highway and got up to speed. An old favorite of theirs from a certain party years before, “I Can’t Get Started,” played in the background as an instrumental.

“You remembered our song,” she said, beaming over at him.

“How could I forget?” Bruce said with a smile to match her own. “I should have worked up my nerve that night at the tower.” All of him had wanted to be with her. He knew that now. His love for her was not unrequited. Hulk may have felt that way and chosen to leave, but Bruce knew Natasha had returned his love from that night forward. “Things just moved so damn fast that night.”

“I should have pulled you out of that lab two days before,” she said with a rueful chuckle. The idea had occurred to her, and she’d kicked herself for three years over it while he was gone.

“Would-uh. Should-uh. Could-uh,” he sighed and patted her hand. “We were pretty star-crossed, but I always hoped somehow we’d get them uncrossed. I just never pictured it taking this long.”

“Patience and persistence: we’ve had those in our favor for this ongoing thing we have. I’m almost afraid to call it a relationship.”

“It’s that and more—the longest slow burn possible. Eleven years,” he mused, thinking back to their first interactions in Kolkata and then on the Helicarrier before the Battle of New York.

“Well, it was longer than that. You just didn’t know it at the time.”

He briefly took his eyes off the road to look at her. “News to me,” Bruce prompted, feeling instantly curious.

“We talked about me being your ‘handler’ for S.H.I.E.L.D. before,” she reminded him.

Bruce nodded, “Since Kolkata.”

“Right, but I told you S.H.I.E.L.D. had been keeping an eye on you for a while and kept other interested parties off your tail.”

He gave her a surprised look, and then a smile crept over his face as the truth dawned on him. “It was you all along.”

“At least half the time. I was at Culver when Ross caught up to you, but I was late to the Battle of Harlem. I was in Windsor and then Detroit most of the time you were there. I hope you’re not creeped out.”

“No, you were doing your job. Ross was the only one who caused me trouble. Thanks, I guess I owe you.” He bit his lower lip and was still chuckling as he rearranged his memories around her revelations.

“Fury wanted to make sure you weren’t a threat, and then he didn’t want to see you fall into Ross’s hands, especially after his techie hacked us to track you down in Brazil. I was the one who gathered most of that intelligence, so I took it kind of personally and retrieved all of it on my own time. The less said on that score, the better.” She’d made sure payback had been a bitch. It wasn’t until weeks later that Ross’s flunkies found out they had less information on Bruce than before they’d hacked S.H.I.E.L.D., including their Bio-Tech Force Enhancement Project data. She was pretty sure they’d never found her backdoor into their covert off-the-records system either. General Ross never had played by the rules. Years later, she had also scrubbed all Bruce’s sensitive data off the S.H.I.E.L.D. mainframe network before the agency fell, but that was a story for later.

Bruce laughed, “I’ll bet.” He glanced over at her again and shared a smirky grin. He only knew one or two better hackers than her and one of them was dead. “Would it creep you out if I said I like the idea of you watching over me before we really knew each other?”

“No, not one bit.” She squeezed his hand, feeling relieved that he understood and didn’t condemn her for it.

“Thank you for telling me. You didn’t have to. I respect what you do, Nat.” Bruce wasn’t blind to what she did or how she accomplished her goals as an operative, yet he still trusted her and her judgment.

She shook her head. “Confessions from your secret stalker, Doc. I wanted you to know before I lost my nerve.”

“You’re a professional who was doing her job,” he insisted.

Nat snorted out a laugh. “Just so you know, I was a Hulkie before anyone else.”

Bruce belly laughed as deeply as he could while keeping the HX traveling smoothly down the road. “Holy shit, I love you so much, Nat!”

“Trying to keep things honest,” she modestly replied.

“Seriously, I’m glad I wasn’t as alone as I thought.”

Natasha ran her left hand over the top of his scarred one that had saved half the universe and managed to interlace her fingers with his. “Me, too, Babe. Me, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My eternal gratitude to Autumn_Froste and Emilygracie13 for their Beta-help! Any errors are mine. 
> 
> If you'd like to see the cover edits for each part, check out my Pinterest board: https://www.pinterest.com/borahrs/my-bruce-x-natasha-edits/fanfiction/  
> They do give you some hints at things. This one I worked pretty hard on Bruce's picture. I think the Skrulltasha one from the overall cover is pretty good, too.
> 
> Concerning some of the interviews I referenced here: After something goes off the rails or falls apart, it's only human nature to look at the broken pieces and try to figure out what went wrong. Sometimes you find some bits that are salvageable or point you in the right direction so you can make changes that will eventually lead to a better result. Looking back, there were a few hints during that long gap between 2015 and 2018 that something wasn't right, which came out during interviews. 
> 
> Mark's long ago statement during an interview with Black Tree was a good one that's worth looking up on YouTube. He was asked directly about the ship and said, "Haven't you ever felt unrequited love?" He then walked it back to say, "Well, whether it's requited or unrequited..." At that point, I read in the tealeaves that disaster was likely coming, but I didn't want to admit it. I knew he didn't quite use the right word because "unrequited love" is one-sided, and it's been very clear that both characters were attracted to each other from as far back as The Avengers (2012) if you pay attention and then brought to forefront in Age of Ultron. Mark was more accurate in a later interview when he brought up "star-crossed lovers" to describe the ship because that means they're doomed, like Romeo and Juliet. That's probably the biggest legitimate spoiler he's ever let out, but it was actually more of a prognostication since the decision to fridge Natasha wasn't even planned in the original EndLame script, so he wouldn't have known that yet. Scarlett has used the phrase "ongoing relationship" to describe the pairing, which I've always liked. Recently, she's even said she herself is still a Brutasha stan, and Mark has always supported it. 
> 
> As they say, hindsight is always 20/20, and that's the advantage to writing a fix-it fic--you get to reconstruct everything and see the patterns without the distractions and false leads and red herrings getting in the way and make it work. I'm not taking that unhappy route to doom here. Steve was right about one thing: They both deserve a win. 
> 
> Hey, I'd love to discuss things and hear what you think. Is this how you've imagined things? Comments, questions, and commiseration are always welcome! Please give a like, a follow, a kudo, a review, a share, a tweet, and tell your friends to give it a read! 
> 
> Next up: "Part Five: Lunch and Learn" (Unless I think of a better title.)


	5. Part Five: Lunch and Learn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's still Monday, Oct. 30, 2023. Bruce drives Natasha through his adopted town of Bridgewater and on to his house. News travels fast. They have company waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it's a big chapter. I tried, but I could not think of a better title without spoiling something.

[Monday, Oct. 30, 2023]

It was a pleasant ride to Bridgewater with no real traffic since it was only about 11:00 am on a Monday, and the highway route he took was mostly through the countryside. It didn’t hurt that it was Autumn and everything was tinged golden, crimson, and orange, especially the hard maples and oaks. It was good to be away from the muddy pit and construction at the Compound. It was even better to have Natasha finally coming home with him.

Bruce could have taken the second exit and arrived home by a quicker route, but he’d wanted to show her the historic part of the town that he’d adopted or, more actually, that chose to adopt him. There was a bit of a strip mall out by the highway, but “Old Bridgewater” (or just “Downtown” to the locals) was picturesque with a river cutting through the middle of town and several beautiful arched stone bridges and Victorian-style houses and other striking architecture. At one time, it had been a mill town and produced woven fabrics, but those days were far in the past. Now it was a quaint, bedroom community headed toward being an outer, outer suburb with a little light industry and tech to go with some agriculture that had been given a boost by the Decimation. Nat was surprised at the number of people who recognized them and waved from the sidewalk at Bruce. He’d rolled his window down to return their casual waves. She smiled as she realized he genuinely enjoyed the interactions and wondered if any of them were “Hulkies” like Marsha had mentioned.

Bruce laughed when a couple of preschool-aged kids pointed eagerly at their vehicle while they waited on a red light to change. The small girl and boy both broke into bicep-flexing poses. He returned the flexed salutes with one of his own. “Hulk out!” he called to them, and they squealed with glee. “You can always tell the kids who’ve watched the _Go Green Science_ videos because they get all excited like that. Sometimes I think it’s really the HX everyone is impressed with since it’s unusually large. To most of the local folks, seeing me or the vehicle isn’t such a big deal anymore unless they’ve just been snapped back, so there’s just kind of a wave hello to a neighbor. ‘Nice to see you.’ I like that about this place.” Nat thought he was being modest about some of the attention. She’d spotted a few people sneaking pictures, too. Were they Hulkies?

Just when they seemed to have reached the end of town, he’d taken a turn to the right and paralleled the river as it flowed around a bend. When they came around the curve and the trees no longer obstructed the view, Natasha’s mouth dropped open. “You bought a castle?!”

Bruce laughed, “No, it’s just a big crazy Victorian-style house with some round rooms and stonework. It has three and a half stories and a finished basement. The mill and warehouse are also Victorian era, like most of Main Street, on the outside, but I have cutting-edge lab and workshop space inside.”

“Your house has turrets, Bruce. It’s a castle.”

“Fine, I’m ‘The Beast’ in a castle now,” he joked, deepening his voice. “I guess that makes you Belle?”

“I’d be your Belle. Got a library?” Natasha teased back.

“Do I have a library?! Have you been impersonated by a Skrull for five years?” He was completely happy to see her smile and joke with him again; it gave him faith they could at least try to make a go of it together this time. He hadn’t exactly rebuilt the house and grounds just for her, but he’d put a lot of his love for her into it with the vague hope that someday she’d see it. Now, he hoped she’d fall in love with it as he had.

The gravel crunched under the HX’s wheels as Bruce pulled up to the gate in the decorative, yet substantial steel fence surrounding the property. There was a camera, but no gatehouse, and he rolled the window down and pressed in a code on a panel then let it read his left thumbprint. Bruce scanned the driveway ahead that forked off to the house on the left and the old factory complex with the labs on the right. “That’s kind of weird. Usually, Sirius is front and center as soon as he hears the car on the gravel. Maybe Vella shut him inside by accident before she left?” he hypothesized. He didn’t believe it for a minute, but no need to go on high alert just yet. After the metal gate rolled back, Bruce drove cautiously down the drive and parked the vehicle in its usual spot in the driveway where the pavement circled behind the house, near the back porch.

“Please do me a favor and sit tight for a minute, Nat. I want to see where the dog is.” Bruce opened up a panel above the rearview mirror and pointed to a toggle switch. “I want you to flip this when I get out. The vehicle is a bunker if it needs to be. With you just back . . .”

“Do you have a gun in here?” Natasha demanded, her voice all business.

“Promise me you won’t get out of the car unless it’s 100% necessary.”

“80%.”

“Deal. I have one of your old Glock 26s in that wooden box in the backseat. It’s loaded, 10 shots, but I don’t have any extra rounds. Also, I have neighbors within earshot, and I would prefer not to scare them shitless.”

“Got it. I promise I will sit tight until things go south.”

“Make that 80% south,” Bruce reminded her before he left Natasha in the HX. She was as good as her word and engaged the “bunker” mode, which involved a form of nanotech that reinforced the existing plating, extended it down to the ground, and covered the glass and tires. He hadn’t told her how to disengage the shielding, so he hoped she’d sit tight and let him deal with whoever was here. He was pretty sure he had an idea whom that might be since no sensors were tripped.

“Sirius! Here, boy!” Bruce called and then whistled. There wasn’t the usual happy bark and scrambling of toenails on wood and stone as the big black mix charged out the pet door or careened around the corner of the porch, so Bruce turned to the trees surrounding the backyard. “Barton, if you’re holding my dog hostage, don’t expect to be invited to lunch.”

“I’m not holding it hostage. I just want to talk to whoever you have with you and make sure you aren’t getting made a fool of,” called a familiar raspy voice from behind him. Clint dropped down from the roof on the far corner of the porch. Bruce was relieved to see he wasn’t wearing his “Ronin” gear though he did have his bow and quiver over some basic tac clothing.

“Where is my dog?” Bruce asked, sounding stern.

“It went in the door thing. Hasn’t come back out.”

“Why would that be?”

“It wasn’t exactly staying quiet.” Bruce scowled at him. “It may have gotten a little sleeping gas before he went to bed.”

“You gassed my dog.”

“It’ll be fine in about an hour.”

“I cannot believe you gassed my dog,” Bruce said in a low growl.

“It’s a big dog with a bigger bark, okay!?”

Bruce didn’t mean to be losing his temper, but now he was pissed off. “He’s an overgrown puppy for crying out loud, Clint, not a guard dog. Try a dog treat.” He unclenched the fingers of his right hand again and stepped back. It never helped to loom over smaller people unless you really wanted to fight them or make them piss their pants, he reminded himself. No, he really didn’t want to fight Clint. “Why the fuck couldn’t you just use a phone or wait on the front porch?”

“You could have called. Instead, I had to overhear this from Fury talking to Carol,” the archer accused.

 _Dammit, Danvers, update your security protocols (or quit having Clint do your dirty work if that’s what was going on)_ , Bruce thought. “I’ve been a little too busy making sure Nat was okay. You gassed the dog, so now what do you have planned to do to Natasha, hmm? Because this IS Natasha. OUR Natasha!”

“How the hell do you know? You weren’t there on Vormir. You didn’t see her let go. _That_ was Natasha,” Clint said through gritted teeth. They both stared at each other, filled with grief and anger and guilt. It wasn’t necessary, not now, not anymore, but it was hard to let go.

Part of Bruce wanted to step forward and backhand Barton into the next county for all the time he’d had with Natasha that he hadn’t and for failing to die when both Bruce and Hulk would have done it in a heartbeat, but Bruce reminded himself that it no longer made any sense to be jealous and petty about any of it. That wasn’t Nat who died. It was a horrible sacrifice that still had meaning, but it wasn’t one the real Natasha had been fated to make. He straightened back up from the defensive crouch he’d been slipping into and relaxed both hands. Bruce kept his voice low and calm. “Don’t remind me. We were both fooled, Clint. If you want to talk to her, put your weapons on the porch. All of them.” Clint didn’t seem convinced. “Dude, if you don’t believe me, call Maximov. All four of us there agreed this is our Nat. Now, I need to see how the pup is and get Natasha settled because she’s had one hell of a five years, too. Disarm or get the hell off my property. Now.”

After a tense moment, Clint disengaged his bow with a snap and set it along with the quiver on the porch before pulling out two knives and a retractable club of some sort, which Nat later told Bruce was an asp baton.

Bruce checked the Kimoyo Bead on his wrist. “And the throwing spikes.”

“I was getting to those,” the archer objected gruffly and started unfastening his jacket and arm guards.

“Now, she is not in the best of shape because she was in and out of stasis since seven weeks after the Snap, so don’t be a shit and get her upset. She’s going to stay here for the next month. After that, we’ll see. She really was going to Skype you, by the way.”

“Okay. I believe you. I’ll try and behave.” The archer looked absolutely stressed. Bruce wasn’t surprised. He knew exactly what it was like to get his world upended.

Bruce used his Kimoyo Bead to disengage the HX’s defensive mode and opened the passenger door for Natasha. “You forgot to mention how to do that,” she said in an annoyed tone.

“Still working on that part,” Bruce admitted as he helped her down. “Sorry. Go convince your murder twin not to kill you before I call Laura,” he said under his breath.

“Clint, you better not have hurt the dog,” Natasha scolded as soon as she saw him putting the last of his weaponry on the porch. She really felt almost naked with just her Glock, but she wasn’t going to cough it up unless Bruce insisted. He only patted her back and winked down at her. _Lucky guess_.

“I did not hurt the dog. I love dogs. You should know I love dogs,” Clint complained, sounding more like himself.

“Except Rottweilers. You gassed those Rotties at the mansion in Honduras.”

“Right, I almost forgot about those. 2011.”

“Nope. Try 2009,” she said without hesitation. Clint grinned.

“Dog-hater,” Bruce said half to himself as he retrieved Nat’s bag, her prescriptions, and some parcels from the backseat. He saw she’d somehow stuffed the wooden box into her duffle. He’d explain it later. Bruce stepped onto the porch and placed his hand on a tile that was actually an ID pad and opened the door to the mudroom and then the kitchen. He found Sirius curled up in his bed in the corner. Bruce stroked the dark head gently and the dog half whined in its sleep. “Yeah, Clint’s a sucky uncle all right. Sleep it off, Buddy.” He set the parcels and luggage down on the table and returned to the back door. “Come on in. Beer is in the fridge. Stew in 30.”

Bruce took a moment to wash up and step into a utility pool in the mudroom to clean his feet off as well as wash his hands. Running around without shoes two-thirds of the year was a compromise in the Big Guy’s favor, so that was one way he tried to keep the tracks to a minimum or Vella would have put in her two-weeks’ notice. He checked out the glass-front, industrial-sized refrigerator. He liked to cook, which was good because he didn’t run on the gamma radiation alone. He did big batches of soups, stews, and sauces on Saturdays and froze most of it. He’d set up Irish stew in the crockpot that morning, so all he had to do was put it on high for a bit. He threw in an extra bit of dried thyme for additional iron. That should help cover Natasha’s dietary requirements nicely along with the other ingredients. Since becoming a domesticated dad, Tony had been after him to get an Instant-Pot thing, but he already had a pressure cooker so why bother? Knowing Tony, he’d likely get a posthumous birthday present in December.

As Bruce figured out the rest of the menu, Nat and Clint came into the kitchen talking. Bruce was glad he wasn’t going to have to put them in opposite corners.

“Really, right after you got back to the Compound?” Clint asked.

“It was nearly four weeks after we got back from killing Thanos. Bruce was in Virginia and Steve had just found a place in Brooklyn. I’m pretty sure I was drugged by the same Skrull, but he looked like Steve at the time. I should have known when he made me soup and a grilled cheese sandwich.”

“Yeah, Cap doesn’t cook. You can’t even trust him to microwave popcorn without ruining half of it.”

“All of it,” Bruce corrected him as he pulled a large mix for soda bread out of the pantry and collected a mixing bowl, whisk, and a few other ingredients.

“I know. Not my smartest move,” Nat admitted and walked around the table to see what Bruce was doing.

“Just your luckiest,” Bruce noted as he adjusted the oven to preheat for the soda bread drop biscuits he was throwing together. “I’ll show you around in a minute. The half-bath is through that door if you need to wash up or whatever.”

Nat found Sirius still curled up in his bed in a corner, “How could you gas this puppy, Barton?”

“That is not a puppy. It’s a horse with fangs,” Clint groused.

“He’s not a year old yet,” Bruce explained. “Good boy, Sirius. Uncle Clint owes you a chew toy.”

Natasha petted him and the dog opened his eyes and raised its dark spaniel-ish head. He tried to lick her hand, but immediately flopped back down. “Poor baby, you rest. I see he has a white star-shaped patch on his chest, so that explains the name. Are you sure he’s not a Newfoundland?”

“He might have some of that in him, too,” Bruce admitted. Maybe there was a dog version of 23andMe or someone else had mapped out canine DNA? He made a mental note to check that. “I’m still holding out for Shetland pony.”

The archer groaned, “I’m never going to hear the end of this.”

“Nope,” Bruce said, but he laughed this time as he worked a bit of shredded sharp cheddar into the wet batter for extra iron and vitamin D. It took him a few minutes to locate the parchment paper and set up the baking. The more he worked the right hand, the better, he reminded himself as he tried not to baby it.

“Come on, I want the tour,” Natasha said after they’d passed around some local dark ales. The drinks were pretty low on the alcohol scale, so Bruce told her to use her better judgment and quit if she felt like it was hitting her hard. She was only taking small sips, but he still watched her closely. “Do you have help or is it just you taking care of all of this?” she asked him.

Bruce slid the tray into the oven, set the timer, and cleaned his hands off again. “This is way too big of a place for just me to handle. I tried out a couple of matronly sisters, Nancy and Susan Feisterson, former S.H.I.E.L.D. employees who turned out to be Ross plants. That lasted two days, and it took me a week to clean up. Since then, I’ve been more cautious and pretty fortunate with my regular local folks. Vella is my go-to person who helps out with some cooking and cleaning, running errands, and she does the ‘small person’ things I can’t do that easily when I need help. She’s a pro at sewing buttons back on shirts.”

He laughed and so did Nat. “I imagine there are plenty of those.”

“I’ve gotten better at staying clothed. I also have a couple of high school kids who work on the yard and grounds, and we find things to do in the lab for their school projects. Shonique just headed off to NYU, but Marquand will still be a junior here. I’m sure they’re responsible for the Halloween stuff that’s magically appeared. I’ve been pretty lax this year since we’re not hosting a party, just trick-o’-treaters. Then Gordy is my full-time staff person who works on the house and grounds and does maintenance that I can’t. There’s plenty of that to keep up with on the three large buildings and 40 acres here. He’s also a retired lab tech who knew my dad back in the day, so I’m lucky to have him.”

“Lookout, you’re halfway to being Stark, Industries, Doc,” Clint teased.

Bruce only snorted and led them through the first floor, which had a balance of larger and smaller spaces, including a sizable library and music room with walls of built-in shelving for books and displays. In the round corner room, there was a beautiful Baldwin piano that had been customized to a larger scale for his hands. He’d been hitting it pretty regularly to work out his injured arm and fingers over the past week or so.

“We were able to save most of the oak and maple paneling, but some of the floors had to be replaced. We added some period-accurate tiles in spots. You’ll see those in the entryway. We kept the local carpenters busy for a couple of years. I had to gut a few rooms, so that’s where the serious tech upgrades are. The cozier TV and living rooms are in the rear along with some office space and utilities. I try to keep Sirius mostly back there, so he doesn’t destroy historical things. It’s mainly bedrooms and then storage upstairs.”

The larger media/electronics room was like a home theater on steroids and purely an excuse to torment Tony since Pepper had regularly put the kibosh on “useless upgrades” at their lake house. Consequently, there was a lot of BARF tech stored in Bruce’s warehouse and a small army of stowed suits, including a full graduated set for Morgan when she was old enough to start tinkering. Bruce planned to tell Nat about all of that at some point. She’d probably be more interested in the AI and Human Interface projects since they were more up her alley, but they’d have time to get to those later. At least, that’s what he hoped.

They circled around to the grand entryway and the double-sized front doors with stained glass and a beautifully symmetrical wooden staircase with deeper than normal steps to better accommodate him. There were Halloween and harvest-themed decorations festooning the banisters and other spots. Natasha ran her fingers over the front doors’ glass panels. “I want to see these from the outside once it gets dark. I bet they really glow.”

“Believe me, they do. It’s a Tree of Life design by a local artist. She uses recycled glass and we played around with some radium ware, the depression glass that glows in the dark because it has uranium traces in it. Don’t worry, it’s not present in dangerous amounts.”

The front hall was Grand Victorian in scale because it rose up two impressive stories. “Wow, this looks pretty Downton Abbey to me,” Clint said looking around the great space, which had more of the seasonal decor.

“This is the real public area that I agreed to provide for the community when I negotiated to buy the property from the town and restore it. They gave me a break on the zoning to keep it historically accurate and make this part available for community events.”

“Like masked balls or what exactly? You said you hosted a Halloween party,” Natasha inquired.

“Yes, on the kid-friendly parties and, so far, art shows, concerts and recitals, and wedding receptions, but we did host a debate between town council candidates last year. That was actually kind of fun.”

“Isn’t all this a little stressful plus a security nightmare?” Natasha surmised.

“Not really. Everything is roped off down here, and I just stay out of the way. Vella and Gordy get more stressed than I do. We’ve hosted class outings, and I’ve done some basic science lessons in the labs that involved a production team from the local community college. We did ten lesson plans. The videos are kind of a geeky little hit on YouTube among the middle school and under set.”

Clint shook his head. “They’ve been back less than two weeks and all Nate wants to watch is _Go Green_.”

Bruce winced, “Sorry. I’ve got some t-shirts around here somewhere. The schools and town handle those official ones. I just approve of the designs.”

“Oh, no! Just like the gift store in Stark Tower,” Natasha laughed. The Hulk gear had always been a steady seller, especially in the junior and extra-large sizes.

“I did not take you by the Chamber of Commerce Office in town for a reason,” Bruce chuckled, blushing a bit.

Clint laughed, “You didn’t like pose for a calendar or something?”

“No, but please don’t suggest that. I’ve got enough to handle with the Hulkies as it is.”

“Marsha mentioned them,” Natasha prodded again. This topic was golden and she was still very curious.

“Yeah, let’s just say things haven’t completely died down since I left the HX’s security disengaged and unlocked on Main Street one time and came back to find a very curvaceous and not well-covered young woman waiting for me once I finished running errands.” Clint and Nat both broke out laughing. “Well, it’s funny now, but trying to get her out of there wasn’t that fun. It took both female officers on the police force and a signed photo and a selfie to do it.”

“I saw it: #sexybeastbridgewater,” Clint laughed. Nat just raised an eyebrow at Bruce who was flushed very pinkish under his verdant skin tones.

Bruce was saved by the oven timer going off. They gathered around the rustic kitchen table, which had a bench-size chair for Bruce on one side. He had laid out two sizes of bowls and utensils, but Natasha noted everything still matched. He’d clearly settled into his new identity and seemed very comfortable. He’d domesticated himself: Natasha wasn’t sure yet how she felt about that. He’d not wrung his hands or fidgeted or paced restlessly once. She missed the nervous energy he used to emit, but it had to have been unimaginably stressful for him, like balancing on a knife’s edge every waking minute kind of anxiety and fear of his other half. They reached for the pile of napkins at the same time and touched hands longer than necessary. She stared at his scarred hand, wanting to really examine it. When she looked up, he was smiling at her in the intimate way she’d missed, for which she’d ached.

“Are you handling the ale okay?” he asked her as they sat down with bowls of stew and plenty of warm drop biscuits in a serving basket in the middle of the table. There was a big lump of Irish butter on a plate with a butter knife next to it.

She’d only taken a half dozen sips from the bottle. “I think I’ll switch to sports drinks.” Nat had noted there were an abundance to choose from visible through the fridge’s glass front. Bruce started to get up. “Sit, I’m perfectly capable of picking one out.”

Clint just grinned as he stuffed half a butter-covered drop biscuit in his mouth. After he swallowed, he pointed at Bruce. “Get used to it, Buddy, because she is the worst sick or injured person in the world.”

Bruce well knew that from years of treating her scrapes, cuts, and various other ailments. She was nearly as virus and bacteria resistant as he was, but there were a few times over the years when he’d about had to sit on her to get her to slow down. Well, now he was big enough to get that to work if he had to do it. “I know man. That’s kind of where I went wrong with the Skrull.”

“How’s that?” Nat asked, more than a little curious again, but wanting to stay somewhat emotionally detached. She had a lot of questions, but she wasn’t sure if Bruce and Clint were ready to say things while in the same room.

“Looking back, I can see ‘SkrullTasha’ had some serious mental health issues. The kind of thing that in a better-organized situation, would have been caught.” If he’d put his hurt feelings aside, maybe . . . “I called her out, but I didn’t insist.” He was surprised at how raw his emotions still were.

“Man, it’s in the past now. It’s worked out for the better. Let’s just leave it at that,” Clint concluded. “Some of us would really like to forget the last five years.”

Bruce raised his eyebrows and nodded in agreement. “We’ll know more once Danvers and Fury have gone over everything with their fine-toothed combs.”

“Well, I can tell you she’s sent for outside help from her allies. Some leader named Tellos, Talos, something like that.”

Bruce snorted his agreement. “Fury told me that’s the Skrull General Carol helped back when they first met. That may take a while since they’re supposed to be located somewhere beyond the Kree’s reach. I get what you’re saying, that we should just let this lay, but the implications for how easily we were duped and manipulated, that’s something we’re going to have to deal with sooner rather than later. There could very well be others just as deeply embedded anywhere.”

Nat shook her head. “Well, I’d disagree that this ploy was easy. It took some real planning and above-average talent on this particular operative’s part,” Nat argued. “I was pretty out of it most of the time, but taking on all my memories and baggage had an impact on him. We talked several times, and sometimes I think it was just because he was lonely and isolated, maybe even a little doubtful. He said more than once he was doing it to save his people, and spy-to-spy, he hoped I’d understand.”

“HE?” Clint asked, suddenly catching the pronoun.

“Yes, he,” Natasha said and continued. “I can see why you’re picking up on the mental health issues, Bruce.” He looked at her and thoughtfully nodded. “At the end, I think he had to let go of who he was and playout the script he’d been given. He tried to shape the narrative, but it’s like he’d closed off every opportunity except to make that sacrifice or be discovered before the mission was complete.” She looked next to her and realized Clint was sitting still with tears sliding down his face.

Bruce reached back and grabbed a roll of paper towels from the counter and set them on the table since the paper napkin Clint had wasn’t going to be enough. “It’s okay, Bud. You definitely were dealt one of the rottenest hands possible.”

Natasha put her arm around Clint’s shoulders. He cleared his throat. “Don’t get me wrong, man. This is all such a big relief, but in some ways, she, uh, he really was like a clone of you, Nat. I’m not proud of what I was doing, but she pulled me out of it and gave me some hope. I’m still grateful for that.”

“I remember him being really upset at being unable to help you because he felt I would have intervened earlier. He couldn’t blow his cover and risk you detecting him, but he was completely conflicted,” Natasha explained.

“Sometimes things happen the way they do for a reason,” Clint said and pulled off a paper towel to blow his nose.

“Mmm-hmm,” Bruce agreed. He thought about how complicated the imposter’s situation must have been with all of his clashing motives and challenges to his loyalty and ethics. On the one hand, Bruce still felt robbed of what likely would have continued to develop with Natasha, but there was no guarantee what occurred on Vormir would have played out differently with the real Natasha there. He could see her sacrificing herself for Clint and his family and, of course, half the universe. Part of him still insisted he could have saved her and taken on that burden himself, but even that wasn’t a guarantee. Maybe it was just a self-indulgent notion on his part. He was the only person strong enough to wield the resulting nanotech Gauntlet and not die. It might have killed Thor and Tony both. Maybe even Carol. For a fleeting instant, he wondered if the Skrull might have manipulated him into making the choices he had to create the perfect combination of mind and body to wield the Infinity Stones. _This was the only way_ , echoed through his head. Bruce shuddered. Clint had a point. They’d gotten their do-over. Time to be thankful and move forward, but that was so much easier said than done. “Would it help to talk about it?”

“I don’t know,” Clint said in a hoarse voice.

Nat shot a look at Bruce to be careful, but he couldn’t stand not saying something. “I know this isn’t the same, but I keep having this weird feeling like the Skrull’s goals and ours weren’t that different or at least they weren’t at cross-purposes. I mean, you know that old saying, ‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend’? I never had the feeling like there was any malice or that there was ill will involved when it came to defeating Thanos. Yes, there was definitely manipulation, but it was in-character—sorry, but that’s how you get me to do things sometimes, Nat.” She gave him a small inscrutable smile. “He was good at getting us to do what needed doing. If anything, I can appreciate what you do more now, Natasha. I’m still mad about losing five years of what would have been . . .” he had to unclench his Stone-scarred right fist yet again, “but still we have this second chance because of his and your sacrifice. I want to punch him out, but I also want to thank him. We need to know more about him and how this happened.” Bruce would have liked to have at least known the impersonator’s name.

Clint nodded, “This is all very weird and twisted, but it is a gift. I’m thankful for it.”

Bruce looked at Natasha and went on. “Just so you know, Nat, that box with your ballet toe shoes was going in a columbarium. I was there today to start planning things out. Tony had his funeral, but we were in such a rush after the Time Heist that all we did was rally around that sacrifice to finish the job. The grieving all got put off. We hadn’t forgotten about you. Frankly, I was still holding out some hope. I guess I wasn’t completely wrong.”

Nat reached across the table and took his good hand. Hers looked like a child’s by comparison, but she squeezed and held on for a bit. “I guess that means my timing was perfect then,” she said with a small laugh. _Weird and twisted was right_. “A Mischief Day resurrection. How appropriate.”

Clint started chuckling. “Yeah, and he freaking pitched that bench that was there on the dock across the lake. Don’t forget that part, Doc.”

“You wrecked our bench?” Nat scolded Bruce, but she was smiling.

“I was angry. It was the landing that wrecked it. The bombardment that came the next day would have destroyed it anyway.”

Natasha looked at him shrewdly, “I thought that wood used to make the box looked familiar.”

“Stanislaus offered to make it, so I took him up on it.”

“Awww, that was sweet of him,” she said. She well remembered the old man. This was truly one macabre conversation.

Clint reached across the table and held his hand out until Bruce realized he wanted to see his damaged hand. “The other thing Bruce has probably not mentioned is he stayed plugged into that damn Gauntlet more than twice as long as needed because he was trying to bring you back. Burned the piss out of himself.”

“Yes, I heard a little about that,” she said with a critical look at Bruce.

“Damn, I can see where the Stones marked you clear as ever,” the archer noted as he traced the white outlines with his index finger across the back of his friend’s hand.

“Yeah, that’s the one thing that’s not showing any signs of healing. The rest is mending.”

“Why the hell did you design that thing for your right hand and not your left?” Clint asked.

“Tony did that for some reason since he wanted it to mirror Thanos’ in form as well as purpose. I’ve been ambidextrous since I upgraded, so it doesn’t matter that much.” Bruce flexed his fingers and arm to demonstrate how much its functionality had improved.

“I guess you could still take me if we arm-wrestled,” Clint admitted. Bruce gave a very deep Hulkish laugh in response. The archer turned to Natasha again. “If you think it looks bad now, make him show you the pictures: burned stump city. It was almost down to the original Banner size. What some people will do for love!”

Bruce rolled his eyes and ran his good hand down his face with frustration. “Where is everyone getting their information? I only mentioned that to one other person, and everyone, including the staff, has heard now.”

“You’re the one who told Steve. Old boy was a little less tight-lipped before he shut back up again,” Clint remarked.

Natasha had reached her limit for needless amounts of mystery on that particular front. “What is this with Steve, by the way? Fury is ticked off at him and no one wants to say anything.”

Bruce and Clint looked at each other, neither one of them wanting to tackle that thorny issue. Nat knew she could get either of them to crack with some pressure, but she’d rather have both their perspectives while they were here with her face to face.

“Bruce should know more than I do,” Clint volunteered.

“Thanks for that vote of confidence, Pal,” Bruce retorted before he addressed Natasha. “Fine. You really ought to talk to Steve and get his perspective on this, but in a nutshell, we trusted Steve to return the Stones to their rightful times and places in the timeline within moments of them being collected by us. That way we hoped to prevent splitting off alternate realities. We knew it was a challenge, but in theory, we could do this repair without causing a butterfly effect with seriously negative consequences and keep the timeline unified.”

“Okay, I’m with you so far,” she said.

“Steve also had Mjolnir to return as well.”

She was surprised. “He could lift it?!”

“Helps when you have your come-to-Jesus moment and make peace with Stark apparently,” Clint mumbled.

“What happened?” she insisted.

Bruce grimaced and shook his head. “Rather than return Mjolnir and the Reality Stone first—as we’d discussed—he returned the Time, Mind, and Power Stones, which luckily took their appropriate forms; however, that left the Soul Stone to return to Vormir next. Steve won’t say what happened there, but whatever transpired, he had second thoughts about coming back to our present time and decided he wanted to stay with Peggy Carter and ‘have that dance’ after he returned the Space Stone. He shuffled the order to do that.”

Natasha looked horrified. “But Peggy was married to . . .”

“Daniel Sousa and they had a son and daughter, Stephen and Daniela, who both went on to have families of their own, and so on,” Clint answered. Several years ago, he’d been assigned to security at the S.H.I.E.L.D. archives and met their son Stephen who worked there.

Bruce continued, “This is the crazy part. They do exist, but it’s like parts of the official record are altered. Government files, S.H.I.E.L.D. data, school records, newspaper archives, you name it, they all have some details changed that don’t match memories.”

Natasha gave him a quizzical look. She had met Peggy’s family, and Fury had introduced her to S.H.I.E.L.D.’s founding grand dame. “Their information is just gone?”

“More like it’s replaced or edited. One of the bigger issues is Daniela went to Georgetown for her undergraduate degree, but the records all have her at William and Mary now. She met her husband there. It’s like someone revised her past without telling her,” Bruce tried to explain.

“Did they end up more or less where they thought they belonged?” she asked.

Bruce looked at Clint. “You’ve dug into some of this.”

“Pretty much. I guess you could say it’s like playing chess and you turn your back on the board for a few seconds. Then, when you look at the game again, all the pieces are still there, but they’re shuffled around enough that it’s noticeable if you study it.”

“Like a bad grifter’s switcheroo scheme when the misdirect fails,” Natasha concluded. “Do you think it happened to coincide with your unsnapping everyone?”

Bruce shook his head. “Try four days later, the day Steve took the Stones back and Old Man Steve showed up to give Sam his shield. It’s like something is being covered up, but we’re not sure exactly what, and Steve has clammed up now.”

“Do you think he did it somehow?”

“That’s what we’d like to figure out,” Clint said. “It seems to be confined to things Steve may have affected.” He nodded to Bruce, “Go on, Doc. I know there’s more.”

“Anyway, before he quit talking, Steve said when he tried to lift Mjolnir after he returned the Soul Stone on Vormir, he couldn’t budge it.”

“No shit! I didn’t know that last part,” Clint interjected, leaning over the table.

“Well, what did he do?” Nat demanded.

“He said he did some ‘soul searching’ without changing his mind to stay in the past, and in a few minutes, the hammer flew off on its own. Gone! I would presume that’s because Thor called it, but . . .” Bruce raised his hands in the air with exasperation, “we don’t know. Steve then returned the Reality Stone to Asgard where it turned back to the Aether, but he had no way to find out what happened to Mjolnir without disrupting things further. He finished up with the Space Stone, which became the Tesseract, and then said he stayed with Peggy straight through.”

“Have you talked to Thor? Did he have both versions of Mjolnir?” Nat asked.

“Strange was able to contact him, but Thor has no memory of it acting oddly much less there being two, which makes no sense. We don’t know to whom it went or what happened after that. Presumably, there’s another timeline splinter,” Bruce explained.

Nat’s head was swimming. “That makes two, plus ours.”

Bruce laughed a bit sarcastically, “Hold on, there is also the 2014 timeline without the Thanos and his army that we defeated here 13 days ago.”

“That’s not our timeline?” Clint asked.

“No, remember, when you go back to the past that’s your future. You can’t kill baby Thanos and just erase what he’s done in your past. No _Back to the Future_. No _Terminator_. What we were trying to do was keep the timeline from fracturing, but blame it on whomever you want, we failed pretty spectacularly,” Bruce concluded.

“You forgot Loki,” Clint groaned.

“Yeah, that one’s not on Steve, but it did happen.” Natasha looked puzzled. “I will explain the whole caper in detail at some point when you’re wanting to start a headache, but Team Iron-Ant got knocked off course and Loki grabbed the Tesseract. Poof! Probably four splits.”

Clint grinned. “Hold it. you’re skipping the best part of that story.”

At that, Bruce grimaced, “Remember, before we had Shawarma after the Battle of New York, how I didn’t fit in the elevator going down from Tony’s penthouse and had to take the stairs all the freaking way down the tower?”

“Yes . . . it pissed you off for like another half hour before you calmed down enough to change,” Nat remembered.

“Scott says Tony had nabbed the Tesseract before 2012 me sent Tony and the MacGuffin flying as I came out of the stairwell into the lobby, big, green, and pissed off. That’s when Loki pounced on it. Gone!”

“But, can you remember doing that?” she asked.

“No. I’m pretty sure I stomped out into the street without looking back. I’ve been able to integrate most of both our memories now, so I’m pretty certain my memory has stayed the same as before,” Bruce noted. He caught the knowing little smile Nat had on her face, and it stirred both parts of him down deep. Both aspects of his personality had fallen pretty hard for her, and he’d known that for a while now. Bruce suspected Natasha had known that all along.

“Okay, I see why people aren’t happy with Steve now. How long did he stay in the past?” she asked.

“He says he was there the whole time,” Clint said. “He and Peggy did a lot more than have one dance.”

“He didn’t come back via our time machine through the Quantum Realm,” Bruce explained. “I initially thought the second machine had malfunctioned, but he did it the old fashion way and lived his life then showed up sitting on a bench waiting for us to notice him. Surprise. That’s his story and he’s stuck with it, even when we confronted him with some of the paradoxes. The idea that he would have no effect on history is pretty absurd, but we may never know how the shuffling occurred after he showed up or exactly why.”

Natasha shook her head. “Wait, this is still not making sense. It breaks the rule you just mentioned. Wouldn’t Steve have made himself a separate timeline when he chose to stay back in time and ours continued on without him? Otherwise, that’s got to be a loop or something?”

Bruce groaned and did a facepalm. “Fucking déjà vu all over again, you’re right. Dammit, Steve! If this is the same Steve, he had to have hopped back into ours somehow without using the machine. Shit, it’s not a time loop. It may have spliced or converged somehow with ours when he came through.” It had been several days since he’d spoken with Strange and handed off most of the Time Heist’s follow-up responsibilities to him. Maybe he’d been a little too hasty about stepping back?

“I’m gonna need another beer,” Clint said and retrieved a bottle of lager this time. They all dug into their bowls of stew and mulled over the situation.

Bruce looked up first and his eyes darted back and forth between the two former assassins. “Do you think Steve would have pilfered more Pym Particles? I mean, he had enough to do the job, but would he lie to us and retrieve more like Tony and he did before in order to come back to our timeline from a splinter one? That by itself doesn’t explain why the Sousas are affected, but he had to have done at least one extra jump to get back here on his own.”

Clint swallowed and cleared his throat. “Right up until this Time Heist, I would have put money on Cap never wavering from what needed to be done for the greater good, but the more I’ve thought about this, he threw Stark and the Avengers under the bus for Barnes and then everyone, including our reality, down a rabbit hole to fill out his dance card. I’m not saying I blame him. Hell, I almost did the equivalent to my own family to support him and so did Scott. Steve’s biggest asset is to inspire and lead people. We put him on such a damn high pedestal. Disappointing as it is, the man really is just human after all; still, what a way to screw up everything.”

Natasha sighed with resignation. “I think Clint is saying, ‘Yes, Steve is capable of it,’ and I agree. Steve has always had a blind spot where loved ones are concerned,” she noted. “I can’t say I blame him that much either.” The Skrull had been the one who painted himself into a corner, so Natasha wasn’t sure if she would have done the same thing. She hoped she would have been that strong, but the crucible of Vormir was a situation she’d been spared. Hell, she hoped she would have been smart enough to find a better way.

Bruce pressed his lips together and chewed at them, not wanting to believe what he suspected Steve had done to complicate the fracturing of reality further. Stealing more Pym Particles had likely caused yet another alternate timeline each time when he’d stolen them. Now, he wished he’d had time to talk to Wanda more. When Bruce had confronted “Old Steve,” after he’d spoken to Sam and Bucky, things had nearly gotten ugly as he pointed out what had likely happened to fracture the timeline further. Rather than restoring the six stones and preventing their fractures (and any others), Steve had made even more. That was the one time Bruce had wished he could have returned to his old form and slipped in and out, keeping his promise to the Ancient One and mending the fractures. Hell, Clint would have done a much better job. “What are we up to, a minimum of six, no, seven fractures now?”

“Seven, eight, or maybe ten,” Clint sighed. “This is above my paygrade.”

“Ugh, you know what just occurred to me?!” Nat blurted out. “Before the Snap, Steve and Sharon were together and sharing an apartment.” This time, Bruce groaned and did a complete double facepalm.

“So that means . . . Steve was shacking up with his own niece?” Clint shuddered and shook his head dramatically like a wet dog to try and rid himself of the picture of creepy Uncle Steve. “Thank God, at least they weren’t blood relatives.”

“Okay,” Bruce said after they’d mulled that situation over another few minutes. “Okay, we can’t really do anything about the consequences on this catastrophic of a level, not without a lot of help, and definitely not today. Strange is probably already on it. There are bound to be more paradoxes than just the seven we’ve identified. What do you say we give it a rest and try a new topic?”

Sirius’ drugged snores in the corner became much more noticeable in the silence until Bruce gave it a shot. “Uh, what have you got planned for Halloween, Clint? Do the kids have their costumes lined up?”

“Nate’s going to be you,” Clint said with an eye roll.

“Really? You’re not leaving without the t-shirts then.” He held up a finger to indicate he’d be back in a minute and got up. “I think I know where they are.” He disappeared down the hall with the office and utility rooms.

“Coop thinks he’s too old for trick or treating, but Lila is dressing up as you, Nat. They’re all going to be so happy you’re back.”

Natasha tried not to tear up. “I’ll Skype you guys this evening, okay?”

“Make that tomorrow. I want to be there,” Clint said.

Bruce emerged from the hallway with a stack of lime and Kelly-green t-shirts of varying sizes. “These were left over from the school event we did last spring on seed-starting and composting. Pick out the right sizes because I’m pretty clueless,” he said as he set the pile in the middle of the table.

Natasha helped Clint sort through the t-shirts. “Did you tell me earlier there are two gardens and a greenhouse?” Natasha asked, trying to keep the conversation moving away from Steve’s peccadillos and time travel.

“There is a somewhat formal rose garden and a cottage and wildflower garden. Vella says we have a kitchen garden, but I call it herbs and tomatoes. There’s a gazebo by the roses and a path nearer the river. The greenhouse is closer to the old mill building,” Bruce noted as he pointed out the back door. “Clint, we need to get Laura and kids here when you all feel ready.”

“I’m surprised she hasn’t called yet, but I’m not expected back till late tonight. We’ll make it happen once you’re settled, Nat.” He checked his watch. “I hate to gas your dog, drink your beer, and run, but I’ve got a ride swinging by in a little bit.” Natasha handed him the rolled-up t-shirts as Clint stood up and hugged her. “Here, please take my burner phone since yours is on Vormir or at the bottom of that mud pit some of us sometimes called a home. I’ll show myself out. Bruce, let me know when you open up that Bed & Breakfast.”

Nat hugged him fiercely. “Thanks, you’ll probably be the only one calling me till we figure out how to handle this. Text me the best time for Skype.”

Clint stopped to pet Sirius who was still sleeping things off. “I’m sorry, Buddy. I guess you got a Hulk-sized dose since I thought I was going to have to talk some sense into your dad, Uncle Bruce.”

“Thanks for telling me,” Bruce said with a resigned growl. “Do I need to open the gate? Debug the bathroom mirror? Reset some cameras that are on loops?”

“Naugh, that’ll give Nat something to do. Bring the pup out when you come. You know he’ll love the kids.” Clint waved as he exited via the back porch and picked up his gear.

“Well, I’m kind of glad he didn’t get to the big brother talk before he left because I was completely expecting it,” Bruce admitted.

“I’m pretty sure Laura helped him figure it out a while back,” Natasha replied. They were both finished eating, so they cleared the table and loaded the dishes in the washer. When everything was put in order, she asked, “Isn’t it about time you showed me upstairs?”

Bruce broke into a smile and scooped her luggage off the counter where it had ended up and motioned with a nod of his head toward the hall leading to the front end of the house. “I want to do this right.” Rather than heading straight up the main staircase, he went to the double doors and opened them wide, beckoning her to follow him outside onto the front porch.

“What are we doing, Banner?” she asked suspiciously.

“Something I’ve wanted to do for over a decade and for which I should never have waited this long,” he said and put the duffel bag over his shoulder before he swept her off her feet. The doors were over eight feet tall, so he didn’t have to stoop. She pulled his face down to hers and demanded a kiss, which he was all too happy to give her. This time, he was less tentative than in the car, less afraid to express how much he wanted her and how happy he was she was here. She seemed to be getting comfortable with him, too, but they eventually had to take a breath. “Just to be clear, Nat, I want you to know this is your home if you want it to be. I’ve made a full life here, but that doesn’t mean you wouldn’t fit right into it.”

“No pressure?” she asked with a flirty grin.

“None. I’ll be sad if you don’t stay, but I’m strong enough to survive letting you go if that’s what you need. I’ll respect your wishes if you want space. I won’t smother you because I want the timing to be right, and it needs to be your choice,” Bruce explained, frowning a bit.

She could have left him on the hook for her answer, but Natasha smiled with one of those knowing little expressions he’d missed so much. “Yes, Bruce, I’ll stay. I know the timing is finally right. This is my choice, Love, and I choose to be with you.” Their kiss was mutual and deep this time, and he managed to shut and lock the massive door without breaking it or interrupting their kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My thanks to Autumn_Froste and Emilygracie13 for their Beta-help and a whole lot of plotting out the time travel!
> 
> Rant Warning: I have to talk about this. We had a lot of "fun" picking through all the sloppy mess the Russos and Markus and McFeely made as they screwed up time travel throughout the third act of the film. I even consulted with my friend Lex who is a bit of an expert with sci-fi physics tropes, so he deserves some credit here, too. I talked/argued with many people since TT is a serious issue with EndLame.
> 
> The way TT is set up is sound. Unfortunately, too much of Bruce's short screen time uses him like a tool to explain it, sucking up more screen time than he gets for actual character development. Hey, that's so much easier than writing and filming a legit character arc, right?? 
> 
> Anyhow, the rules aren't at issue, it's how they flagrantly broke them many times, mostly just for Cap fan service, but also out of sloppiness. The Russos and M and M contradicted each other during several interviews. You will never convince me this has all been in some grand plan since Feige brain farted it in 2006. (One queen-bee admin kicked me off an Agents of SHIELD page when I refused to drink her version of that toxic Marvel Koolaide. All hail the Mouse and the Kevin!) 
> 
> We went through many videos and articles on TT, so I had a list of errors and inconsistencies that likely caused fractures or created other problems in the continuity. I also went through fixes/explanations people had proposed. As Bruce says, either it's all true or it's all crazy, but hey, until someone manages it, it's all fiction anyway. Just pick your dang rules and stick with them is how I feel. There's no way to avoid a multiverse now, so it looks like the folks working on Doctor Strange 2: The Multiverse of Madness (insert evil Nightmare laugh, Bwah-Ha-Ha!) will have to deal with them since Far from Home's director said it wasn't his mess to clean up. Smart man.
> 
> Anyway, the plot holes were plentiful, and we kept finding more and more to go with the paradoxes. (I even used one Emily found for Nat to point out.) Add onto this the Russos and M and M keep doing interviews and claiming their previously confessed fanboy head canons dating back to Civil War and Peggy's funeral are now true (TRUE, they tell us!) like "made up facts" true. It obvious they're either delusional and desperate to rewrite established canon for perfect Stevo or just flailing around and trying to troll us one more time to get off their sick, power-tripping jollies. (Woo, take a breath!) Either way, they're gone from the MCU and good freaking riddance. 
> 
> After TWS, they never did a favor for Nat, and they delighted in maiming, crippling, and nerfing Bruce and Hulk from moment one of IW. When they had to consistently correct fans about important plot points (i.e. why Hulk wouldn't come out in IW), the failure is on the Russos, not the fans. They had no intention of making anything but Cap fan service, so that's all we got. Time will take the shine off their mediocre works. I wish Ruffalo would sue them for breach of contract since we're never getting his arc back or all the time, talent, blood, sweat, and tears he and the ILM put into it. Such a waste. Look up Film Crit Hulk's essay/review/reaction over on Polygon for a really beautiful, heartfelt summation of the grief Hulk and Banner fans will never get over. He even ships Bruce x Natasha. #FTR 
> 
> Rant over.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I've wanted to do the Beauty and the Beast thing and give them both a home and a dog and a community that appreciates them, even if it's kind of cheesy. I also love--despite Renner--the deep friendship Clint and Nat share on both the professional and personal level. Of course Clint and Bruce were the two people the Skrull knew he'd have the most difficulty fooling. Yah, Bruce is a little jealous of how close Nat and Clint are, but he recognizes and handles it like an adult. Clint has that big-brother protective thing going, but he knows Bruce is a good guy and, now that his shit is together, he's going to make Nat happy. She loves them both, but in very different ways. Clint is her kindred spirit while Bruce is her soulmate. Btw, if it hadn't been a spoiler, the chapter title would have been "Bruce, Nat, and Clint Throw Steve under the Bus." Murder Twins + Bruce is my favorite if we can't have Tony, too.
> 
> If you'd like to see the cover edits for each part, check out my Pinterest board. This one includes a puppy!
> 
> You know, I'd love to discuss things and hear what you think. Is this how you've imagined things? Did you come up with other plot holes or fragmented timelines? Comments, questions, and commiseration are always welcome! Please give a like, a follow, a kudo, a review, a share, a tweet, and tell your friends to give it a read!
> 
> Next up: "Part 6: Safe Sex" (Is that a spoiler?)


	6. Part Six: Safe Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce brings Natasha upstairs. Being separated for five years is one complication. Natasha being worn out is another. Dealing with Bruce's physical changes is a third. Will intimacy be the answer to their problems or just the beginning?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's still the day before Halloween of 2023 and just after lunch. They just had a kiss and Bruce carried Natasha over the threshold. 
> 
> Hell, yes! We earn our mature rating. 
> 
> If you want to get in the mood, look up a version of "Body and Soul" by songwriters Edward Heyman, Frank Eyton, John Green, and Robert Sour with Frank Sinatra on vocals.

He carried her up the steps two at a time till they arrived at the top where he set her down on her feet. “Next choice,” Bruce announced, “you look like you’re about to drop. Would you like a smaller quiet room by yourself to get some rest or would you like something suitable for two with me there?”

“I was hoping you’d stay with me because I’m not sure I want to sleep alone or wake up in a new place by myself either.”

Bruce grinned, “The master suite it is then.”

At the end of the hall, he opened the last door on the right to a large bedroom with exposed stone walls that had been roughly plastered over on two sides and left rustic. The windows on the outer back wall were huge and included French doors that opened on a balcony. As she looked out, it was easy to see the fall gardens were still green, and further away the river flowed between stony banks.

Bruce set her bag down on a chair and joined her at the windows. “The glass is the same tech as in the Tower. All we have to do is tell Friday to set it on opaque or just leave it on ‘privacy’ mode.”

Nat brightened up at the familiar name. “You have Friday here?” He hadn’t audibly used the Interface yet that she’d heard him.

“Indeed, you do, Ms. Romanoff,” said the familiar lilting feminine voice of the Interface over an intercom. Friday had been one of Natasha’s favorite parts of living in the tower, aside from Bruce of course. Besides Pepper, Friday was the only other “female” with whom she’d been able to interact while living there, especially late at night, and she’d made a few tweaks to Tony’s programming. This place was quickly feeling more like home to her.

As Nat surveyed the room, she noted the bed was much larger than a normal King and the headboard was of hard maple with clean Craftsman-style lines. The bedding and sheets were shades of pale blue and cream with several pillows stacked a bit haphazardly like he’d thrown them back on the bed after he’d made it that morning. The other furniture and some low paneling on the two finished walls were matching warm tones of maple. Bruce grabbed a loose t-shirt off the far side of the bed and tossed it across the room and into a clothes hamper next to the bathroom door. “Sorry, didn’t exactly expect you,” he apologized and put the pillows in slightly better order.

“Big bed,” she said, thinking he looked a little nervous.

“Tony made the frame. It’s all custom. I’d have just put the mattress on a riser, but he insisted it would have looked weird and messed with the aesthetic. Plus, risers a little hard to move, I guess. We were looking for applications for a new carbon-based material, so I think that had something to do with it, too.”

“Hey, who could turn down a carbon-based bedframe?” Natasha said with a smile and a shrug as she ran her hand over the quilted spread on top.

Bruce opened a few drawers in the largest dresser and moved some things to the other side of the mule chest, which left her with plenty of room for her things.

“What were those?” she asked about the clothing he’d moved.

“A few of my old-me clothes. I’ve been meaning to donate them or throw them out.” He was clearly a little uncomfortable for some reason.

“Don’t. I’ll take care of them. I may want to steal a small enough shirt that I won’t get lost in it.”

“Okay,” he said with a raised eyebrow, not wanting to remind her with such a visible piece of evidence just how much he’d changed.

She pulled out a blue checked dress shirt she remembered him wearing from before and suddenly teared up. It hit her how long it had been and how so much had changed while she hadn’t.

“What’s the matter, Nat?” She turned and grabbed him around the waist, pressing her face into his chest, as he hugged her, stroking her hair and back. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay, Love. I am the same man I was then just . . .”

“No, you’re not. You’re not broken and hurting the way you were then. Do you really need me anymore? You’ve moved on to something better inside while I’m even more of a mess.”

“Oh, Nat. You’re no more of a mess than I am. Yes, I do need you, and I want you to share the happiness I’ve found. I’m sorry I can’t go back and bring you along or include you in the process now. I wish I could. To tell the truth, that part wasn’t much fun—it sucked a lot of the time, but I thought about you every day. When it got really bad, and I was stuck or we’d reached an internal impasse, both of us thought of you and how determined you always are. More often than not, we were able to find a way to work things through. You’re my hero.” Bruce sat down on the bed to see her better. “I understand you’re probably grieving and feeling kind of confused . . . disoriented. That’s normal, considering all the crap that’s happened to us.”

She wiped her eyes. “There’s a lot of that going around.”

He grabbed a box of oversized tissues for her from the nightstand. “Please don’t grieve for me. I’m here. All of me is here. Maybe a little more banged up, but I hope I’m the wiser for it.” Natasha sat down beside him with his old shirt in her hands, and he rubbed her back and let her get a few of her tears out. “It’s not like I ever competed with anyone for looks or charisma, but I promise you, this me does not leave or run away like a wounded animal, not anymore. I’m not afraid of myself either.” She looked up at him, knowing how his fears had warped and restricted his hopes for a stable life for so long. “I love you, Nat, and I’m not going to let you push me away. I’ll give you all the space you need, but I’m here for keeps.”

“I won’t push you away. If things had worked out, I would have been there with you every step along this journey. Five freaking years, Bruce! I’ve lost what should have been ours. I’m just so damn mad!” She was shaking with grief and anger. “And you’re nothing less than perfect in my eyes, so don’t even go there. You’re exactly what I want, Banner. I’m the one who loves you. Me! Right here! Me!”

He’d waited so long to hear that. “The journey with me starts here together then. Detours are over. Now, please either put that damn shirt on or just take everything off. If you’re agreeable and up for it, I want to be near you. I want to make love to you.”

Natasha smiled and dried off the last of her tears. She stood up and took off her leather jacket and let it fall to the rug before she crossed her arms over her head a little slower than necessary and pulled the black camisole off and dropped it, too.

He thought she still moved with the grace of a dancer as she bent over from the waste and took off her shoes and socks. “Please, the jeans next,” he requested in a whisper. Most of Bruce wanted to rip them off her, but he didn’t want her to stop what she was doing. She still had his number. He ran his good hand through his hair, reminding both his halves to calm down.

Watching him, she realized Bruce was still as attracted to her as he had ever been. She had his attention completely on her and that made this aspect of their relationship start to feel suddenly closer to normal. She thought about their first night together at the Compound once they’d all returned from Wakanda. The two of them had started off just holding hands; then, he’d put his arms around her and they’d held each other for comfort on the flight back. They’d ended up lingering in front of her apartment door, devastated yet not wanting to part. Curling up alone in misery would have ment Thanos had won, that he’d broken them. “I know it’s late, but Rhodey put me in one of the suites if . . . if you’d like some company,” he offered.

Natasha did and she smiled and let him lead her further down the next hall. They were kissing each other hungrily before he’d punched the code in to open the door. They’d left a trail of clothing from the foyer to the living room and then to the bedroom. The first time they were both just desperate to feel something positive and life-affirming after all the loss. It had been quick and physical, more visceral because they were both running on pure adrenaline at that point. It was good, especially for a first time as they did that awkwardly beautiful give and take of unveiling bodies and finding out what they both liked and how they moved together. He’d been as good as she’d imagined. The release was what they both needed. The world had fallen apart around them, but there was comfort in each other’s arms, so they both slept well for a few hours. She’d awoken to find him running a radiation scan at 3:00am, using his Stark-phone linked to the medical lab computer. “Sorry, I woke up in a panic, but we’re good. It’s all background level,” he’d assured her and come back to bed feeling less anxious and more amorous. He was definitely all she’d imagined.

Since it was clear he really wasn’t going to “turn green” or poison her, they’d taken their time and enjoyed each other for the next month and a half. They had agreed to leave their guilt and sadness outside the bedroom door, but what had started as mutual comfort and distraction, quickly became much more as they discovered how well suited they were. Bruce was particularly talented at bringing her off with his mouth and hands. He had an intense focus and paid attention to detail, which Natasha had to admit was a huge turn on for her. Bruce had a thing about getting her to come first before he paid much attention to himself. She’d scolded him for that, more than once. He deserved pleasure, too. She’d ended up playfully tying him down, which they’d both enjoyed. There was something deeper at work there, but she’d not had time to puzzle it through. Maybe he’d figured it out during therapy? _Five years._

As they’d lain in his bed together, Bruce had been so attractive and masculine as he’d rubbed against her thigh, massaging her mound, and then wetting his fingertips before circling her clit, getting her worked up so she begged for him to fill her up with that gorgeous cock. He’d made her feel so alive right when she’d needed him. In a way, that’s what she was mourning a bit because his physical changes couldn’t be brushed aside. There was no way to avoid all that Hulkishness. She’d known they weren’t the same. She’d known them both, but not in the same way, not in the same space. This was starting over, a reset, but not from square one. She had to believe they’d find their new normal, and it would be good enough.

As he’d requested, Natasha slowly unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans for him, easing them over her hips as he drank her in. He waited until she stepped out of the clothing before he set his glasses on the bedside table with the tissues and pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her and cupping her ass with his warm sizable hands. Bruce bent down a bit and kissed her stomach, and she ran her fingers through his still familiar-feeling hair, moaning as he worked his way down to her hips. He carefully pulled her panties down with his teeth, breathing her in; finally, he used his thumbs to take the delicate things the rest of the way down to her ankles, so Nat could step out of the black lace. As Bruce lay back on the bed with a leonine grace, he guided her up and on top to join him. Her hands went to work unbuttoning his shirt with its proportionally larger buttons. He held up his arms to unfastened the cuffs and pulled out the shirt tail and leaned forward so he could pull it and his t-shirt off. Those pieces of clothing quickly joined hers on the floor.

She’d wanted to touch him more back when he was just Hulk, but Natasha hadn’t dared to satisfy her curiosity for fear of what might develop while Hulk was in control. It hadn’t felt right. She’d always pushed herself to master what she feared, but sometimes his feralness was less frightening than what it brought to the surface for her. They weren’t the same person back then, so pushing the flirtation wasn’t comfortable for either party. The lullaby had been a delicate balance for both of them. Otherwise, Hulk tended to focus only on her when she needed him to do something like act as a spotter or let her use him as a perch or provide timely muscle, but she’d caught him taking out the odd sniper or minion attempting to blindside her. All she had to do was ask, and he was there. She knew the Big Guy had some feelings for her, but it had been too uncomfortable of a thing for either to explore, especially after she knew she loved Bruce. It was easier to chalk up Hulk’s interest in her to bleed over from the good doctor, but she couldn’t deny there was a connection there, which had nothing to do with Banner.

Now, as she looked down on this new Bruce, she didn’t feel the need to hold back from touching him as he stretched out before her like a whole new landscape to explore. Natasha straddled his hips and slid her hands up his abdominals to his chest. She ran her fingers through the dark forest of hair, and he gave her an amused smile. Oh, he definitely remembered. His own touch was gentle and curious, undemanding as he allowed her to explore all of him she wanted. Natasha traced the outlines of the scars and the tissue grafts along his chest and shoulder then looked at her own body to compare how it had fared after so long in stasis. The function was still there, but the honed edge, the tone of her muscles was gone. “Aren’t we a matched set?”

“You’re still beautiful, Nat. Neither one of us are kids now, but we’ll bounce back. At least we can do physical therapy together,” he teased her. “I give you three months before you’re 90% over it and leaving me in the dust.”

“Maybe,” she replied with a shrug, still studying his injured arm. “Why are there three or four different colors?” Natasha asked as she traced the edges of the repairing tissue and the grafts, noting the slightly different textures. She pictured Helen growling in frustration that the match wasn’t yet perfect. The geneticist had an exacting aesthetic when it came to her professional work.

“It’s because I have two distinct sets of DNA, and I added a spliced hybrid third set. I figured out I’ve been what they call a genetic chimaera from birth. I rebuilt the original two into that edited third set before irradiating myself—on purpose this time, but when the Stones did their thing with the Gauntlet, it pulled some of the original two back apart, but they only appear to be expressing along the edges.”

“You nearly came undone?”

He tilted his head and thought a moment before he responded. “If you’ve ever seen the edge of a frayed piece of fabric that has two different colors in the warp and woof of a woven textile, it’s kind of like that. Helen and Shuri added Vibranium to the grafts to help keep everything knitted together this last time. So far, it’s working, but there’s a good deal more to do with testing and making sure it’s integrated. We want to make sure if I ever change sizes again that it’s as elastic as the rest of me.”

“Is that going to happen?”

“In theory, it might, but I’m happy with what I have now. We negotiated it, but this is the optimal balance so neither of us is in physical or mental pain. That had a lot to do with Hulk’s temperament. Pain and anger aren’t a happy combo. Things can get ugly fast when you’re in chronic pain. I don’t miss that. I have no intention of going back to it.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to. You’re very appealing together. You’ve always been beautiful inside and out to me,” Natasha told him while her hand stroked his face. She leaned down and kissed along the scar lines up his chest and shoulder where the radiation had burned and left him with marks like a lightning strike. Her left hand drifted down to his nipple and circled it with her thumb. No nerve damage there she noted as it immediately tightened up in response to her touch.

“Yes, that feels good,” he murmured, his pectoral muscles quivering in answer to her caress. He’d been almost touch-starved since they’d been missing from each other’s lives. She moved up his torso to continue kissing along to his neck. He wanted her to mark him, but he doubted it was possible for her to bruise him now. “Bite me like you used to, Nat.” She obliged and he moaned as he felt her teeth press against his neck, bruises or not. “Oh, have I missed this.”

Bruce stroked her thighs and her flanks. Then, he gently lifted her, kissing her breasts through the lacey black bra. “I’m going to eat you out, Natasha,” he said in a deeper voice as he squared them up. “Relax, I’ve got you.” He settled her so she was straddling his neck and shoulders. His left hand steadied her as he licked his right thumb and used his hand to massage her mons. She jerked as his thumb slid over her clit. “Okay? You seem pretty damp and ready.”

“Yes, I’m good. Let’s just keep going,” she encouraged him. Bruce kissed her inner thighs, sucking and gnawing carefully to keep it pleasurable. “That’s it, Lover,” she cooed with encouragement. He separated her fleshy pink folds gently and leaned up to apply his tongue, using circling swirls as she squirmed. He backed off a moment to kiss and manipulate her with his lips, making certain her juices were flowing before plunging in with his tongue. Natasha gasped as he penetrated her, stroking in and out then licking hard and fast. She grabbed his hair as he filled her again and again, driving her quickly to the warm, wet edge of coming before backing off and building her up again. “Oh, Bruce! Do it deep!” He felt her tighten around him and start to tremble before her inner muscles quickened and then pulsed with the waves of her orgasm. He kissed her again with his whole mouth, being careful to use his lips to cushion his teeth, and she cried out. Bruce backed off to watch her tension dissolve into the afterglow. The blush spread over her pale skin and rose up her chest and throat. He held her as she swooned and eased her as she leaned and then lay back over his chest and body, recovering and catching her breath.

“Are you okay, Nat?”

“Oh, hell yes! That was so intense.”

“As good as before?” he asked, reaching for the wipes to clean up.

“Боже мой! Even better!” she admitted. “You’re like a bear going after honey.” He laughed at that. The release and the relief relaxed her completely. He hadn’t missed a beat or forgotten what she liked. Part of her was so relieved because she’d braced herself for disappointment. Now, that seem so shortsighted and foolish on her part. “It’s different, but in the best of ways.”

“Really?” He seemed pleasantly surprised as he cleaned up and offered her a wipe.

Natasha nodded, “I feel like a melted puddle of bliss. You’ve not lost it, Babe.” Bruce smiled, feeling a little vindicated. He helped her sit up after a minute, and they shifted so they were lying parallel and facing each other. He was a little over two and a half feet taller than her and several hundred pounds heavier than he’d been because of all the Hulkish density, but here with her, he felt nearer and not so different from the man he’d been to her before.

“If I weren’t afraid of destroying it, I’d take your bra off for you,” Bruce hinted since he wanted to appreciate all of her.

She removed her bra with a slow tease and threw it on the pile of clothing somewhere on the floor. Natasha cuddled closer, touching and lingering over his chest and abs and arms and then his face. She’d always liked mapping Bruce’s contours. “I see both of you here,” she said as she leaned in and traced his cheekbones with her lips, kissing him on one side of his face and then the other. “More of Hulk here in your jaw line.” She kissed him again on the right and then the left, ending on his chin. “I see both of you in this perfect mouth.” She ran her index finger along the edge of his lips and he smiled. Nat leaned in again and kissed him on the lips, tasting herself there.

“I’m here. All of me is here with you now. Is that all right?” he asked as she pulled back a bit, studying his brown eyes.

“Yes. It’s so right.” She threw her leg over his hip and then reached down and unbuckled his belt.

“Hey, you need to rest now. There will be time for more after you’ve slept,” he chided her. “These are your doctor’s orders.”

Nat smiled back. “Don’t you at least want to get comfortable?”

“You’re sure you want me to stay?” he asked earnestly. “It won’t hurt my feeling if you want to sleep.”

“Please. I really want to be near you.”

“As you wish,” Bruce returned and stood up, so he could take his pants off.

She’d seen both halves of him unclothed, so she was naturally curious to see him undressed now. The analytical part of her brain was making calculations.“Oh my, going commando?” she asked as she admired his bare sculpted musculature from the back as he stepped out of his pants without any boxers beneath them. His hands and feet were just slightly out of proportion to the rest of him, but he moved more gracefully than he had as Banner or Hulk, even with the damage to his right arm. His posture was also more upright without Hulk’s hunched shoulders or slouch. He was more at ease and confident in this new skin than she could ever remember seeing him as either one before. Natasha reminded herself he wasn’t that much taller than some professional athletes. His broad shoulders and perfect muscles were toned as well as Hulk’s but closer to normal human proportions. Bruce had always had the best ass on the team; he’d just never felt the need to flaunt it since Hulk had seldom been modest about showing off his.

“I usually don’t go parading around without underwear, but swimming in the lake kind of trashed the boxers I had on this morning,” he explained to answer her comment. Bruce neatly folded his pants and laid them on a chair, and then he couldn’t keep from picking up the rest of the discarded clothing and placing it tidily on the chair as well.

The obsessive-compulsive move wasn’t necessarily a Banner thing, Natasha noted to herself, but she was a little hesitant to attribute neatness to the Hulk just yet. Either way, she enjoyed the view as he bent over. “I’m sure it made Marsha’s day,” Nat teased.

That had him chuckling. “I’m sure we made her morning at least.” He took off his watch and the Kimoyo Bead and laid them on the dresser with his wallet. Finally, he turned around so she could get a full-frontal view to see he was as proportionally well-endowed as before but certainly not monstrous. His whole body was someplace in between his other forms: nicely muscular, a paler green with hints of pink underneath, and all of it was pleasingly attractive to take in. Natasha bit her lower lip, absorbed in her observations and calculations.

Bruce caught her staring and found it amusing. He held out his arms horizontally with a theatrical flourish, “Not so bad, I hope?” He turned around slowly for her, so she could have a long look at all the goods. Feeling a little playful, he flexed his shoulders, pecs, abs, glutes, and calves like a bodybuilder for her, so she could really check him out. “I guess I shouldn’t care that the Skrull was ‘repulsed,’ but it does matter to me what you think. I have a pretty robust ego, but . . .”

“‘Repulsed’?!” Her disagreement with that judgment was genuine. How had Marsha put it? _What’s not to love?_ In her eyes, he was as beautiful as he was unique.

Bruce nodded. “Yes, ‘mutilated’ and ‘repulsed’ was how she put it before I even damaged the arm.” He rubbed his injured bicep and forearm, feeling a little embarrassed and egotistical even to have brought up the slight. “Now, I am sort of damaged goods inside and out, but at the time it really stung. I hope I’m at least tolerable.”

“Oh, hell yes you’re easy on the eyes!” Natasha shook her head in disbelief as she imagined that kind of psychological cruelty coming out of what had looked and sounded like her own mouth. “I didn’t say I thought you were attractive or handsome just to be flip or stroke your vanity. I meant it. You’re the one I chose to be with, Bruce. I would never say something to hurt you purposefully like that imposter did, but I’m being completely honest.” She stood up in front of him and ran her hands down his forearms and took his large green hands in hers and kissed his knuckles—giving specific attention to the scarred ones on his right hand—then rubbed her cheek against them. “I love you. I’ll miss being able to lay my head on your shoulder when we slow dance, but I think we’ll be able to work around that, Bruce.”

He smiled at her with sincere adoration and gratitude. Then, Bruce gently picked her up so that his good arm supported her hips on his forearm and they could look into each other’s eyes. “How’s this?”

“Perfect!” she said as she wrapper her arms around his neck.

“Friday,” he called over his shoulder to the Interface, “play Sinatra’s version of ‘Body and Soul’ for us. Use your best judgement after that.” Bruce took her left hand in his injured right. “Sorry, I’ve gotten a bit stuck on a theme. I was going to save this for a date, but it seems right now.” A big band played the introduction to the familiar standard, and Frank Sinatra’s smooth baritone sang:

My heart is sad and lonely  
For you I sigh, just for you dear only.  
Why haven't you seen it?  
I'm all for you, body and soul.

Bruce swayed gently to the tune and then smoothly stepped into a spiraling pattern around the open space in the middle of the bedroom. Nat lay her head against his left shoulder and hummed the melody.

I spend my days in longing  
And wondering why it's me you're wronging  
I tell you I mean it  
I'm all for you, body and soul.

I can't believe it  
It's hard to conceive it  
That you'd turn away romance.  
Are you pretending?  
Because it looks like the ending  
Unless I could have one more chance to prove, dear.

“You’ve always had the best ear for music,” she told him, “especially when it comes to torch songs.” He chuckled in response and she ran her right hand through Bruce’s hair at the back of his neck.

My life a wreck you're making.  
You know I'm yours just for the very taking.  
I'd gladly surrender myself to you, body and soul.

Life’s dreary for me  
Days seem to be long as years  
I’ve looked for the sun, but can see none  
Through my tears.  
Please, come back to me, dear  
I’ll wait for you, body and soul.

She tilted her face up to him, and he kissed her, getting the feel for how they connected now. He kept swaying with her in his arms as Natasha caressed his face till the music shifted into an instrumental. She pulled back and looked at him. This close, she could see and touch the stray hair she remembered that grew a little higher than the rest of his beard on his right cheek. “I’m back, Love. Thank you for this dance.”

“You’re welcome. Just so we’re clear, what it says in the song, that’s not how I see you. I’m the one who’s done most of the ‘wronging,’ okay?”

“Not all of it.”

“But enough of it. I want to make you as happy as I can. I can’t go back to whom I was now, even if I wanted. Please come forward with me. I don’t want to go any further without you by my side . . . or me at your side. As long as we’re together, I don’t care. I just want to be with you, Nat.”

“Are you sure? I’m a pretty demanding taskmaster. We’re going to work on this arm and shoulder to get them back to where they were.” Bruce kissed her. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she said breathlessly as the concluded.

“I surrender. I’m yours for the taking,” he paraphrased.

“Consider yourself taken then. I’ve had dibs on you for at least ten years now.” Bruce grinned and set her down. “You know, my guess is the Skrull just wanted to give you a gut punch to keep you doubting yourself and make you pull away, so you wouldn’t see what was really happening. He seemed to be in anguish over the hurt he was causing you.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” Bruce agreed. “He seems to have been a very complicated interloper.”

“Yes, and I’m sure I’m right. You’re a beautiful soul, Bruce, and I’m going to agree with your Hulkies on this, I don’t mind the hunky green packaging or the peace you’ve found. I want you to be happy, too.” They gently touched their foreheads together for a few minutes before he put her down.

Bruce helped her rearrange the pillows and pull back the covers on the bed. He lay down, and she settled next to him, hoping they’d keep talking because there was so much to cover, but when he had Friday darken the windows, Natasha quickly relaxed and nodded off in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my Beta-Ladies, Autumn_Froste and EmilyGrace13! Any errors are all mine. 
> 
> Hope you liked it. Before anyone says they want more intimacy and action, there will be more! It's just noonish in the story, so they have lots of time. (The woman needs a nap, and I have more to tell from Bruce's point of view first.) We'd never get this kind of content in a Marvel film, but I have some real head canons about these two and how they would negotiate their challenges. Do share them if you have head canons about them, too. 
> 
> I know some of you have a little difficulty with seeing the Hulkish side of Bruce as having real sex appeal, but as unhappy and ripped off as I feel about the missing story arc in Infinity War and Endgame, I like the majority of what Ruffalo did with the character, considering the writers admitted they and the Russos dumped everything on him and then jerked the bridging scenes without writing much less even filming them. The poor guy had to do his job and theirs. If we'd just gotten the integration process on film and it were like the one in the comics way back in the Peter David run, I think a lot more fans would have bought into the progression of events that led to "Smart Hulk." Unfortunately, those four jerks really left Mark hanging, something you'll notice the Russos and M and M are very adept at doing to avoid their culpability for anything they can pawn off on actors and underlings. What shits.
> 
> Is the resulting amalgam of Banner and Hulk attractive or sexually appealing? That's up to you. However, I think we need to see what was missing in the film during those five years to get from just after executing Thanos up to when we get "Smart Hulk" dumped in our laps with only a few lines of dialogue to mystify us or weird us out. I hope following them through the integration process will help a few of you see him as appealing, if not attractive. 
> 
> In this story, I'm writing it as Natasha has always loved Bruce, but has been a little scared about her feelings toward Hulk. In the past, she avoided exploring them on principle because she loved Bruce and she didn't want to cause more complications between him and his alter ego. At the same time, she had to manipulate Hulk to get to Banner, and thus the lullaby became the ritualized method they worked out to bridge the two. Now, in this story, she suddenly has to deal with both of them at once in one being who is fully aware of how she's interacted with both of them. It's a little scary, kind of like dealing with identical twins when you're not certain which one you kissed and which one you had a gym class with. She's coming to realize it doesn't matter that much because they both loved her and still do. 
> 
> Also, I wanted to make it clear that together as one integrated being, Bruce actually isn't such a nervous, hot mess now. He's become a whole person with confidence and a little swagger, which is kind of attractive all on its own. Nat loved Banner as a "fixer-upper" when she had a clear understanding of how she could help him. Now, she's a bit uncertain about where she might fit into his life since some of his obvious issues are now resolved. She's floundering a bit to find her footing and figure out where she stands now that he's not a mark nor a project to tackle or a problem to fix. 
> 
> I'm interested in your thoughts on this complicated relationship. Do you see them having these challenges? Others? I think giving up on their relationship wouldn't have happened if Natasha had been written in character in the film, and the idea "she moved on" is an absolutely bullshitty and lazy as all hell of an excuse for inexplicably dropping a canon relationship as possible. Jeezus, just quit making excuses and do your jobs! Okay, I won't get any saltier. Breathing...
> 
> If you'd like to see the cover edits for each part, check out my Pinterest board. This one has a very gratuitous Hulk pic!
> 
> I do love to discuss things and hear what you think. Thank you for keeping me going! School is now back in session, but I have another nine chapters done and five to go till the end. (After this fix-it fic is complete, I will be back on "Special Needs." I promise that I've not forgotten it!) Comments, questions, and commiseration are always welcome! Please give a like, a follow, a kudo, a review, a share, a tweet, and tell your friends to give it a read!
> 
> Next up: "Part 7: Break Through" (It and the next few chapters feature Banner and Hulk and how they integrated to become Bruce. It's also going to cover Sakaar from Hulk's point of view. I couldn't do it all in one or two chapters, so please indulge me since Hulk always gets the short end on the development and almost no dialogue to really go beyond being a nonverbal monster.) Happy Labor Day Weekend if you're in the US!


	7. Part 7: Breakthrough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is part of the Banner and Hulk story arc Kevin Feige promised us, which should have been delivered in Endgame. In this part, Bruce returns to Willowdale, Virginia, seeking professional help from Leonard (Lee) Samson whom we last saw in The Incredible Hulk (2008). 
> 
> Warning: We are dredging up Bruce's childhood memories, so there will be remembered domestic/child abuse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a flashback from October 30, 2023, to Friday, July 6, 2018, which is seven weeks post-snap and almost four weeks after killing Thanos at "The Garden." No music, but a good bit about Dissociative Identity Disorder, which appears to be the direction the MCU went, similar to Peter David's storyline in the comics from back in the early 1990s. It resulted in the version of the Hulk that fans dubbed "Professor Hulk," but Marvel labeled the "Merged Hulk" with Banner's brain and Hulk's brawn. It's also the version that led to Maestro in Mr. David's famous "Future Imperfect" storyline.

Bruce watched over Natasha as she slept. His mind was genuinely too preoccupied and his heart too full to settle down and join her in a nap. He took his time and savored the pure joy of thinking through all of the possibilities for a future together that had just resurrected from the ashes like a fiery phoenix. He felt more hopeful than he had since five years ago when he’d first traveled down to Virginia to talk with Leonard Samson. It was seven weeks after Thanos’ Snap, and Lee was still coping with loses himself. Betty had been one of the 50% of people who were dusted, and Lee was suddenly a single parent with a three and a five-year-old to raise alone.

This was the first time Bruce had been back to Willowdale, VA, since he’d been searching for a cure to his “condition” and had the dustup with Betty’s father, General Thaddeus Ross, and his subordinate Emil Blonsky at Culver University. Lee and Betty had been living together in the Arts and Crafts-style bungalow Bruce and she had bought a year before their involvement with the Bio-Tech Force Enhancement Project and Bruce’s accident. After the so-called Battle of Harlem, she and Lee had gotten back together after some time apart. Bruce was happy for them and relieved he’d not ruined her life. That didn’t keep him from feeling responsible for not stopping Thanos, but that was what he was here to fix.

On the one hand, things could hardly be more “complicated” between the two men because of their shared past experiences; on the other, the psychiatrist had more insight into Bruce’s situation than a different therapist starting from scratch would have. Lee didn’t take many clients since he was an academic and primarily involved in research and running the psychology graduate program at Culver, but considering the unique circumstances, he agreed to work with Bruce. The physicist met Samson at his house where they’d talked in Lee’s home office, which doubled as a consultation room. Bruce and Betty had mainly used it as a study, but it brought back old memories. Some of the furniture was even the same.

After catching up and some pleasantries, they’d gotten down to business. “Bruce, this is very new territory for me. I’ve only treated one other person with Dissociative Identity Disorder because it’s so rare, especially in men, and yours is so extreme that calling it a unique condition is probably more accurate.”

“I understand that. I also know that not everyone in your field believes it exists,” he returned with a wry smile.

The psychiatrist gave a slight shrug of his shoulders. “True, but I’m not one of them. So, what do you hope to get out of this, Bruce?”

“I need to communicate with my other half, so some way of doing that would be at the top of my wish list. Then, we need to find some way to get along because clearly, we’re not. At this point I’m completely open to suggestions for how to accomplish that.”

“Is there some way I can communicate with your other personality?”

“If you’re okay with it, I can see if he’s finally willing to come out. Like we discussed on the phone, he refused to come out at all after we came back to earth from outer space.” Bruce looked around at all of the smashable things, “Maybe we should try it someplace else though. I don’t want to mess up your office or the rest of your house.”

“Would the backyard work? I have a gazebo I sometimes meditate in. Mats and pillows to sit on and it’s reasonably private.”

“That might work better. He’s usually calmer and has better communication skills if he’s not forced out by accident. I want to give him a choice.”

“Do you think he’ll want to talk?”

“He’s not happy with how things are. As I believe I told you, he had over two years of being out and in control on Sakaar, so he’d probably like to have a life rather than just be the genie bottled up inside me. Still, I probably shouldn’t presume to speak for him since he can speak for himself.”

“That’s probably a good idea.”

“I’m really appreciative of what you’re doing, Lee. I’m sorry to have to ask you, especially now. I would have probably asked a psychic like Wanda Maximov, but after the Snap . . .”

“It’s okay, Bruce. After what happened here with me screwing up and ratting you out to the General, I feel like I owe you, and this is an issue with which I’m qualified to help you. I know Betty would have wanted me to try.”

“Thank you. How are you and the kids coping?” Bruce asked.

“It runs the gamut from ‘could be worse’ to ‘it can’t get much worse’ I’m afraid. It’s all day-to-day. Madeline misses her mom and so does Tyler. I don’t want to give up hope, but it’s a loss for the kids either way. I’m just glad it happened while we were all at work or school and not commuting because there were a number of fatalities on the roads and the highways around here. At least we’ve got some hope left if not closure. It’s not even been two months, so we’re all still just processing it. You included.”

“I’m sorry. I just wish I . . .”

Lee quickly held up his hand. “Hey, I do not hold you responsible, Bruce, and I want us to stay positive. I won’t say something like this ‘Decimation’ was inevitable either. If I can help get you where you need to be, who knows? Second chances have come around before.”

“Well, Thanos beat both of us separately, so there’s my twice. I think we need to find out what we can do together now. I’ll worry about that first.”

The Hulk had proven rather stubborn that day and not come out during their session in the gazebo, so Bruce had gone back to the motel and worked on an inventory meant to help him map out his past. The cellular network and Wi-Fi were spotty after the Snap, so he hadn’t read anything into Natasha not answering aside from it being disappointing and him missing her. He went back to completing the memory inventory assignment, and he wrote quite a bit and sent it to the psychiatrist. In hindsight, that was likely the day Natasha was grabbed since there wasn’t even a response to his email when he got up to go run the next morning.

Saturday morning, he’d talked to Lee about the assignment and his childhood. Bruce had rather numbly laid out the history of his abuse at his father’s hands and the violence his mother Rebecca and he had suffered. The hardest part was talking about his father’s murder of his mother when Bruce had been only eight years old.

“Real Oedipal Complex, huh?” he asked Samson as they talked and sipped coffee in his office.

“It’s kind of flipped, and that’s not what we’ve been calling it for a few decades. However, it seems like this or an earlier incident might be the event that caused you to develop an alternate personality, so you could deal with all that pain. When you think back to that time, how would you describe the way you felt?”

Bruce’s gut instantly hurt, and he sensed part of himself getting defensive and resisting the request. He crossed his arms and stuck his hands in his armpits to keep from fidgeting before he made himself start talking. “Which time? My earliest memories have to do with my father calling me a monster after I built a tower out of an Erector Set when I was two and a half. It didn’t matter what I did or how good I was, I never pleased him. He’d been exposed to radiation while he worked on a government weapons program, and he was obsessed with the idea of his genes being damaged. Everything I did, he chalked up to me being a mutant—not that I was his son.”

“So how did that make you feel, Bruce?” Lee asked as he jotted down notes.

Bruce chewed his lower lip for a few moments. “Like I was defective, not good enough. I certainly didn’t feel loved . . . not by him.”

“How does thinking about it now make you feel?”

“Sad.” Bruce stared at his hands, which were now clenched into fists so tightly that he had to slowly relax one finger at a time. “Okay, _mad_. I still feel really angry about the way we were treated. I know he wasn’t well, but he didn’t have to take my mother and me down with him.”

The psychiatrist put down his pen for a moment. “If I was going solely by the tone of your voice, I’d have gotten the impression that you were maybe a little sad, but not that you were angry. You know, Bruce, it’s okay to feel angry. You are allowed to feel. You can choose how you express it.”

“But when I got angry, it just seemed to make it all worse. If I fought back, it . . . well, I couldn’t really fight back. I was too small. I just wished I could do something to save her. I tried to stop him by stepping in between them to keep him from hitting Mom. Sometimes it worked, but usually not. She’d try to protect me, and we’d both get punched or slapped or thrown.” Bruce wrung his hands, “We tried to leave and that’s when he went berserk. We got everything packed in the car and were headed down the driveway when he pulled in behind us. He dragged her out of the driver’s seat. I tried to stop him and he decked me. He just kept hitting and hitting and then kicking her when she fell down. It was too late when the neighbors came running.”

“How did you react then?”

“It felt like I wasn’t in my body at all. I tried to grab Dad’s arm, but he hit me so hard I think I blacked out for a while.” Bruce covered his mouth with his hand for a moment and rocked slightly back and forward in his chair before he spoke again. “After that, from the time my mom died, I was just numb to everything. I couldn’t feel emotions for a long, long time.”

“So, your father was institutionalized, and you went to live with his sister, Susan Banner?” Lee asked as he flipped through his earlier notes.

“Right, my Aunt Susan raised me,” Bruce clarified as he relaxed a bit.

“How would you describe living with your aunt?”

“Once I got settled in, it was okay . . . No, it was a lot better than okay. It took me a while, but when I realized she wasn’t trying to replace my mom, she was really wonderful. In fact, she probably spoiled me a bit. She taught me how to play the piano and did everything any mother would do for her child—made sure I had an education and pushed me to do my best. I know she loved me. She even got Thunderbolt to sponsor me early for the Science Academy. I really miss her.”

Lee thought about questioning Bruce further about his initial denial of his emotions, but decided to keep going. “You met Betty there, right?”

“Yah, I was 15 and a senior when she entered at 13 as a first-year student. I hope she’s shown you the pictures. She was all legs, braces, granny glasses, and a ponytail.”

Lee shook his head. “Wow, you two have known each other for that long?”

“Yeah, she was in the first-year chemistry lab that I was proctoring as a teaching assistant. Drove me nuts with all her questions, but we kept in touch while we got our education. We met back up at Penn State years later and then did post-graduate work at Harvard. That’s when we officially got together. You know the rest.”

“Well, yes and no. I’m not asking you to talk about anything that’s already emotionally resolved, but I’m sure there were issues leading up to the lab accident.”

“Things are resolved with Betty, if that’s what you mean, but not so much with the General.”

“How exactly did you get involved in BT-FEP? Your work is primarily in physics, so how did you get picked to head it up since it was an offshoot of the old Project Rebirth from World War Two?”

Bruce frowned and squirmed uncomfortably. “Betty never told you?”

“I’d like to hear your perspective, Bruce,” Lee prodded.

The physicist gazed at his hands and then closed his eyes for a moment. “Betty had been hired at Culver by the Biological Sciences Department, and her dad talked her into applying for a government grant. Culver had already offered me a position in the Physics Department as kind of a ‘trailing spouse’ sort of deal. Usually, that’s done to sweeten the position for someone they’re looking to hire, but it was a pretty big double hire in our case. Win-win since we were together and Culver got two top-flight research academics. Anyway, she wasn’t as far along in her career, so procuring that grant to study cancer resistance and cell repair was what looked like an ideal situation. Once she’d applied, the General pulled some strings and twisted arms to get the grant funded, but then had it attached to the Bio-Tech Force Enhancement Program. They needed someone to head up the research team, and they needed an expert in gamma radiation, so guess who got sucked in next?”

“That is your specialty, right? Gamma radiation and its effects?”

“Yes. It’s possible applications. They wanted someone with experience and successful projects behind them, and I fit the position like it was made for me.”

“Well, was it?” the psychiatrist asked impishly.

Bruce barked a dry laugh. “That’s still an open question. We were told this would be early-stage research, which might continue on if we were successful. My part of the job was to create a vaccine that protected personnel from accidental radiation exposure, so soldiers wouldn’t have to fear working with radioactive materials or cleaning up after dirty bombs or being poisoned by a sabotaged food or water supply. I kept thinking that if this had existed, maybe my father wouldn’t have obsessed over having damaged genes.”

“You know he would have likely just found a new obsession, right?” the psychiatrist pointed out.

“Yeah, but Ross knew that would interest me. He also knew Betty had focused on finding a way to prevent and reverse the effects of cancer because that’s how they lost her mother. He told us there was previous government research we were expected to use when it came to the second part, but he wasn’t at liberty to reveal where it had come from or who had worked on it. All we got was a formula for Betty to work from—no notes, no results, no real data. He deliberately hid from us that it came from Abraham Erskine.”

“The man who created Captain America?” Samson asked.

“The one and the same. In hindsight, it’s pretty clear how Thunderbolt manipulated us to replace the Vita radiation with gamma radiation to create the first steps toward another Super Soldier program, but Ross didn’t admit to the connection to me until after the accident when Betty was in the hospital. After six months of working on B-TFEP, we had good preliminary results, but he started putting the screws to us for more than animal trials or our funding would be yanked.”

“Ah, and you’d be left holding the bag and Betty’s career would be damaged?” Lee surmised.

“That was the implication. He knew how ambitious I was to prove the vaccine worked and how motivated I was to impress him since I felt I owed him for my early education and also as a potential son-in-law. The stakes were high. If I tested my vaccine and her serum, it should have created radiation resistance and repaired any remaining damage from exposure. That’s it. Pretty damn safe. Almost guaranteed to be harmless.”

“But that’s not what happened.”

“Since everything was hushed up, it’s never been investigated properly, Lee, but I’m certain the equipment was tampered with, so I received a much higher dose of gamma radiation than we’d intended to use as the catalyst to replace the Vita radiation. Tony Stark and I have made estimates since then that put the gamma radiation I absorbed at close to 100,000 rads or four times Hiroshima and Nagasaki combined.”

Lee nearly spit out his last swallow of coffee; he paused a moment to consider the information. Willowdale and the surrounding countryside would have been a bomb crater if Bruce hadn’t absorbed all that energy. “Do you feel the treatment worked or not?”

Bruce laughed bitterly. “See me? Do I look even remotely like Steve Rogers?”

“No, but the Hulk is certainly a success on some level,” Lee argued.

“Ross wanted to make a battalion of enhanced troops who would obey his commands. I’ll give you the ‘enhanced’ part, but Hulk does what Hulk wants. All I’ve ever been able to do was point him in the right direction and hope he could work out what to do without taking down the wrong people or causing too much ‘collateral damage.’” Bruce looked at his hands again and realized he was clenching them both up into fists. He willed himself to breathe in and out, in and out, before realizing he was only doing it from force of habit. Hulk wasn’t coming to their little coffee klatch. “When we first met, Tony told me I needed to ‘strut’ and embrace the part of me that’s Hulk. We still get into ‘discussions’ every so often over whether what happened was a success or a failure.”

“Well, do you still feel what you did is a failure? You achieved radiation resistance and repair, right?”

“Yes, in a manner of speaking, we did,” Bruce admitted grudgingly.

“Do you see Hulk as a failure? Take your time before you answer.”

Bruce had been ready to kneejerk and give his go-to, negative response, but it didn’t seem right any longer. He ran his hand down his face and covered his mouth to make himself slow down. Bruce closed his eyes for a few long moments and listened to his heart. He swallowed hard. “You know, I was just considering how Hulk sees me. I’m not a stranger to being rejected for things others have projected on me. I shouldn’t be doing the same thing to him.”

There, he’d said it. Bruce closed his eyes again and willed himself to calm down and breathe. Then, he looked at Lee and shook his head. “I never wanted to be a Super Soldier. Sure, Steve is great, but I’ve never really wanted to be him. I’m not a soldier. I’ve never wanted to be one. I was ‘weaponized,’ for lack of a better word, without being fully informed about what I was choosing. To be fair, Hulk has never had any real say in any of it. All I’ve done is hate him because he’s not me and use him like Ross used me. I’m just as bad as my father and the General in that regard.” It felt awful for him to admit that, yet somehow, it was freeing at the same time, like a dark weight was lifting from his chest. The tension constricting his heart as if a fist was crushing it began to ease away. He could breathe.

Samson grinned, “Congratulations. It only took what? Thirteen years to get here. I don’t know him, but I suspect Hulk really isn’t your enemy, Bruce. You’re both victims here.” Bruce nodded his agreement, still feeling a bit stunned. “Now, we need to put an end to unhealthy behavior and see if you can’t repair your relationship.”

“Do you think it’s possible after this long?” Bruce asked.

“That’s going to be up to the two of you, and I’ve not even spoken to him yet.”

~o~

Bruce had spent the afternoon walking around the campus lake and following the forest trails beyond, remembering what his life had been like before the Hulk had come crashing into it. He was beginning to realize he’d been fundamentally wrong about the accident being the Big Guy’s origin. If the theories about DID were correct, he’d likely split or fractured very early on as Samson had suggested. He’d been trying to spur his memories as he walked, but he was having difficulty recalling a number of specifics. For what seemed like the millionth time, Bruce wished he could talk to his mother or even his Aunt Susan and ask questions about his early childhood, but they were both gone now.

After an hour of hiking up a familiar trail, Bruce finally reached a rocky outcrop with an overlook he remembered and wanted to find. He sat down on the rocks, hoping to think in peace. He drank some water he’d brought with him in his backpack and looked out over the college town of Willowdale nestled in its valley below. As he cleared his head, Bruce tried to think about places where he grew up since Lee had suggested he start there. Bruce had been born in Dayton, Ohio, and after a brief stay at Desert Base, New Mexico, his family had moved back to Wright-Patterson Airforce Base before he was two. That was his real childhood home for the next six years.

Bruce had some very clear memories of that first Christmas there while living in officers housing on the base. Since he was born in December, it was his third holiday season and the first he remembered. The reason Bruce could recall it wasn’t a pleasant one. He’d caught onto the idea of Santa Claus and gifts for the first time. His mother had introduced him to seasonal practices as he helped her decorate the tree and bake cookies along with making other preparations. She’d taken him to church as well. He’d always been very precocious, but usually not in a destructive way. As Bruce had become more and more excited to check off the days on an advent calendar, he’d hatched a plan to get up very early Christmas morning and peek to see what Santa might have left him under the tree.

At 4:00am, Bruce had grabbed his ragdoll Guardian and tiptoed down the stairs to the living room. Under the twinkling tree, he’d found a box with his name on it—pretty easy because he’d been reading since he could hold a book. Staring at the gift, his curiosity combined with his autistic compulsiveness soon got the better of him, and he picked it up and shook it. It was heavy and it clanked with metallic sounds as he shifted it. Before he knew what he was doing, he’d impulsively unwrapped the box to find it was the Erector Set he’d been hoping to see. At that point, there was no going back. Bruce opened the box and pulled out the metal struts, plates, nuts, bolts, and other pieces and arranged them carefully on the rug. Over the next two hours he read the instructions and assembled the most complex project: a crane as tall as he was. He’d just sat down to admire it in the glow of the Christmas lights when he heard his father coming down the stairs.

Bruce had just known this would make his father proud, but when his father stared at the child’s mechanical masterpiece, it was obvious from the look on his darkening face that he was furious.

That was the first time his father had called him a monster and the first time Bruce remembered being shaken and then struck across the face. He lay still on the carpet, too stunned to move. His father kicked the structure, crumpling part of the metal framework and sending parts flying. Bruce was vaguely aware of his mother rushing down the steps to intervene as he struggled to sit up. His ears were still ringing—in retrospect, Bruce was sure he’d had a concussion—but he still knew his father was saying horrible, horrible things. All Bruce could understand was his father thought he was a mutant, a monster, because he was too smart, too gifted for his intelligence to be “natural.” Brian Banner blamed the radiation to which he’d been exposed at work and Bruce’s mother for wanting a child who could only be a monster.

Bruce was shocked as he watched his father grab his mother’s arm when she reached down to pick him up. “Don’t touch that little monster!” His father ordered, and she yanked her arm away only to be slapped across the face. His mother reeled and fell as if reality had shifted into slow motion. He could see that her mouth was bloodied.

A voice in Bruce’s head yelled, _Leave her alone!_ Bruce was on his feet, stumbling toward her in his pajamas, and then there was nothing.

He reasoned that he blacked out at that point, so when his memories picked back up, he was in bed with Guardian beside him, and both sides of his head hurt. His mother was sitting on the foot of his bed, and she was dressed now and not in her nightgown as she had been earlier. Her hand was over her mouth, and she was staring out the window, looking as if she was in deep thought. Rebecca Banner was a worrier and she’d passed that along to her son. Though he hurt all over, Bruce crawled out from under the covers to her, and she turned and smiled. Her lip was swollen and cut, but there was a look of relief on her face. He remembered her holding him and both of them crying. That had to have been the beginning of it.

At first, he’d told himself that it had to have been God’s voice he’d heard ordering his father to leave his mother alone. When the abuse became a pattern that occurred again and again after periods of calm, Bruce decided it couldn’t be God because his father didn’t listen. The boy then latched onto the idea of it being Guardian instead even though his imaginary friend was just as powerless as he was. Sometimes, they would talk. He knew that was true, but he couldn’t pull up any details. Those memories kept slipping through his mind like water through his hands.

There were other blank spots and gaps during that six-year period before his mother’s death, but that Christmas had to be the start of it. What he did remember was wishing uselessly for a savior who never came, which in turn became the desire for independence and agency that continued to escape him even into adulthood. His father had called him a monster, but had he himself really created one or did he just pushed that label off on someone else?

Bruce pulled an apple out of his backpack and munched it as he watched the shadows of the trees start to grow long. _Hulk, I’m sorry. Please come out. I’m really sorry_ , he thought, wishing he wasn’t just sending an apology into the echo chamber of his mind. “Please?” he asked aloud to make himself feel a little better. “I want to make things right.”

Before dark, Bruce headed back down the slope, hoping he’d have enough cell coverage to reach Natasha. If not, he was going to try the landline at the motel because he was getting a little concerned. Maybe he would ask Rhodey or Steve to check on her? A few hours later, he’d talked to Rhodey who’d video chatted with Nat earlier in the day. His impression was she looked tired, but otherwise she seemed fine. Bruce let it go, figuring she was just super busy.

That night he’d had an odd dream. Bruce thought he had woken up and Natasha was sitting on the foot of the motel bed, but it wasn’t the motel room—it was his childhood bedroom in Dayton.

“Nat?” he asked.

“I miss you,” she said but didn’t look at him, so he threw the covers off and sat beside her.

He put his arm around her shoulder and found she was ice cold. “Come to bed so I can warm you up,” he suggested, but then she was gone and his arms were empty. He stood up and looked around for her, turning and not finding her. Then he remembered the closet. He’d hidden in there before. When he was five, his mother had put a bolt on the inside of the door for him to use when his father went on a tear. It was his safe room for when Brian Banner came home drunk. Bruce tried the closet door, but it was locked.

“Hey, it’s me. It’s safe to come out now.” Bruce heard the bolt slide back in its metal channel, but it wasn’t Natasha inside. The small child with dark hair looked so much like him, Bruce wondered if they were related. The boy just studied him with huge dark eyes as Bruce gaped back at him for a moment in surprise. He recovered and bent down to get on the child’s level. “Hi, I’m Bruce. Are you okay?” The boy looked at him as if he was making up his mind. “I won’t hurt you,” Bruce gently coaxed. “It must be kind of lonely in there by yourself.” The child stepped closer and placed his small hands on Bruce’s face. They were warm and his small fingers traced his cheekbones and jaw, drawing Bruce nearer, so they were looking eye to eye. They both grinned.

“Bruce,” the boy whispered.

The physicist sat bolt upright in bed gasping for air with his heart pounding. Bruce lay awake for a few hours before falling back asleep, still wondering what the dream could have meant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to EmilyGrace13 and Autumn_Froste (who is sick at home and needs some healing karma). Any errors are all mine!
> 
> This chapter took several days of research, which I hope has paid off. I've never been in therapy myself, so I've had to rely on psychology websites, mental health blogs, and the stories of people who have been diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID) and gone through the integration process. It's similar to what happened in the comics that many of us wanted to see happen on the screen. Instead, we only got those few lines Bruce uses to catch Scott Lang up on his transformation while in the diner. As funny as it is and as much as many people enjoyed it, I have some very mixed feelings about that scene. As much as I do love Ruffalo's goofball performance, the writers and the Russos did NOTHING to support him or the techs from ILM to genuinely explain and introduce what is essentially a whole new character to the audience. 
> 
> Not to be too uncharitable, but for a character who is supposed to be an amalgam or the two--"I put the brain and the brawn together: best of both worlds."--all I could see the first time was a comedic (slightly OOC) version of Bruce who was high on the gamma juice and wearing Hulk as a meat suit. I could not see any of the Big Guy in there. It looked like Bruce had murdered Hulk and stolen a more humanized (read that nerfed) version of his body. It made me as upset and depressed as losing Nat. In 2015, Mark talked about having a confrontation between Banner and Hulk on a more equal playing field, which sounded like the Astral Plane to me, where they could fight it out. I was hoping for that. I was hoping to see them come together and rally to fight Thanos. (Silly me. I wanted what we'd been promised and even teased would happen. How dare I.) If Hulk is still there, why was only Bruce's astral form pushed out by the Ancient One on the Sanctum Sanctorum's rooftop? They both should have been there or Hulk should have had complete control of their/his body. You'd think between four well-paid men whose job it was to write and direct that scene just one of them would have cared enough to notice this possible interpretation. (It's the "Hulk's scared of Thanos" screw up all over again. Pure hubris.) 
> 
> That's enough salt for this round. I still have an ocean full and probably always will. As much as "Smart Hulk" upsets me, there is a lot to like, and Mark and ILM are not at fault. I'm going to do my damnedest to build that bridge here that is missing in the films, in hopes it will ease people into understanding and accepting the character if you're like me and felt as if he was dumped in our laps. Someday, I want to hear Mark's perspective and ask what happened since he clearly did not get what Marvel promised him. Maybe when his last MCU film is done, he'll be more forthcoming. Scarlett has come out and said she wishes they'd gotten their Bogie and Bacall romance and it's unfortunate the characters didn't get their time together. (Dammit, Joss and Taika, write that script for "What If..."! Better yet, Kevin, PM me! My pitch is ready!)
> 
> If you'd like to see the cover edits for each part, check out my Pinterest board. This one has a munchkin with Professor Hulk's fashion sensibilities and Lee Samson (Tye Burrell) from The Incredible Hulk (2008). 
> 
> You know I love to discuss things and hear what you think. Do you agree that DID fits Bruce and Hulk's condition or did you imagine it some other way? Thanks for keeping me going! Comments, questions, and commiseration are always welcome! Please give a like, a follow, a kudo, a review, a share, a tweet, and tell your friends to give it a read!
> 
> Next up: "Part 8: Fight of Flight." It and the next chapter feature Hulk's perspective, leading up to how he and Banner integrated to become Bruce in Endgame. It's going to cover the accident, being recruited for the Avengers, and their self-imposed exile to Sakaar from Hulk's point of view. I couldn't do it all in one or two chapters, so please continue to indulge me while I try and give Hulk a voice. The Big Guy has earned it!


	8. Part 8: Fight or Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the Big Guy's turn. He has a lot more to say than one might think. He may know a lot more about Bruce than the physicist knows about himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a flashback within the flashback to Sunday, July 8, 2018, during Bruce's initial visit to Willowdale, VA, to begin therapy with Leonard (Lee) Samson. This is the first of two chapters from Hulk's point of view, which cover what should have been a three-film Banner and Hulk story arc.

The following day was Sunday, and the Hulk decided to come out. He’d been trying to make a point, but maybe he’d dug his heels in a little deeper than he’d intended. That happened sometimes. 

It was easy just to let Banner do it all. That’s how it had been at the beginning long before he’d even had the name Hulk, back when the boy called him Guardian. The child was hurting and lonely, so he’d comforted him. Later, the boy had decided he was an imaginary friend, so he’d gone with that since he had no idea what he really was. That seemed more logical than being a ghost or a spirit, since being in Bruce’s head was all he’d ever known. The name “Guardian” had suited him back then. He watched out for the boy when he was worried, cheered Bruce on when it helped, and as the child grew to be a teen and then a man, he’d been there to console Banner during the disappointments. He’d never really taken part in the world unless it was a real emergency like the day their mother died. Otherwise, he just watched or slept or dreamed until he was needed. The accident was what had upended and changed his existence forever.

He mostly associated it with pain. Everything was suddenly an explosion of blinding lights and roars and sensations that overloaded him. At first, he felt like he was drowning in the maelstrom of input. He remembered squinting at something and not being able to focus, like Banner always did up close without his glasses. Eventually, he realized it was his hands on the floor and he was doubled over as this strange body convulsed and swelled. The suddenness of being in control and experiencing everything it felt, heard, and saw nearly incapacitated him. Just breathing hurt and was difficult. Instinctively, he pushed himself to his feet. He vaguely knew that things must have gone wrong with Banner for him to be left in the driver’s seat. Every bit of him burned down to his very cells. He convulsed again and screamed—even his own cries hurt his ears—and his spine and limbs expanded as his muscles stretched and swelled beneath his discolored skin. 

When the room came into focus, he looked at his distorted hands and didn’t recognize them as Banner’s. As the dust cleared, he looked around him at the wrecked machinery, concrete, and glass. Banner wasn’t the only one who’d been in the lab. That had to be Betty on the floor, but it was like he was looking down a long tunnel at her. Then the pain and the noise changed. The man Banner wanted to impress (yet didn’t like so much) was screaming, and the General had called in soldiers with guns. He had to get away from it, so he stumbled and pushed until he was crashing through a wall and outside. Then, he kept on running. Eventually, he found a quiet place to lie down under a tree in the woods. Fight or flight . . . fight or flight . . . smash or run . . . those were his options. He was relieved to sink into oblivion.

The next time it was much the same, but there were other people there in different uniforms who had guns. He could barely think, but he knew Banner had been frightened and they hurt him. They were all in the back of a truck, so he knocked the men down and ran until he couldn’t and collapsed in another forest under a new tree. He was sure he’d hurt someone. He hadn’t wanted to hurt anyone. It all just hurt so much.

The third time was almost the same and the next. Different places, different people, but usually the guns and always the pain were the same. Once he’d been in midroll down a riverbank and got to enjoy landing on rocks in the water at the bottom. That had pissed him off. The next time he decided not to run. When he felt himself being pulled into the world, he was a little more prepared for the pain and disorientation. He was in a bar, and it stank of spilt alcohol and frightened piss. A man with a beard and a surprised look on his face was holding the jagged remains of a broken whisky bottle’s neck in his hand. That explained why the back of his head was wet.

“You’re . . . you’re the Hulk,” the man stammered drunkenly.

“Sure. Why not?” he growled back. If they knew him, then they ought to know what came next.

He went ahead and took the name since it was the first one he’d been offered. It was a long time before Hulk was forced out again. This time it was fast and there was a lot of pain in the back of his throat. He went down on his hands and knees, coughing up blood onto the snow that covered the ground. The bullet was purged as the wound in his soft palate closed. He spat the slug out, tasting metal on iron and bitter radiation. Hulk looked at the handgun that Banner had fired, which now lay in his right hand, and crushed it. _Why all these fucking guns?_ For the first time, he was actually mad and knew whose fault it was. This cleared his head a bit, so he could think past the pain and sensory irritation. “What a coward you are, Banner.” As a boy, Banner had survived their father and the loss of their mother, and as a man he had made it to the top of his field only to give up now. “Banner, you might want to die, but I DON’T!” he growled.

Hulk got to his feet and looked around. The longer he stayed in control, the less the physical pain clouded his head. From the angle of the sun, he was sure they were in the northern hemisphere, but he had no idea where. Hulk started walking then decided to run. He had a feeling he could do it all day, but he didn’t have to keep it up for long because he found the coast. Maybe a swim would keep him in charge for a while?

Hulk was pretty exhausted when he reached the far shore, so he had to let go. This time, he made the effort not to give in completely to the forced hibernation that usually engulfed him. Before the accident had pushed him out into the world, he’d felt like he was a part of Banner. He’d been quiet and they’d gotten along like partners, brothers even. He’d been there as long as Banner had: two plants in one pot. That’s how he’d thought about it. Now, he felt disconnected. Banner had shut their link down and cut him off, rejected him. It was much more difficult to sense what was going on with Banner than before, but if Hulk was going to be separate, then he’d have to start thinking and looking out for himself. That made sense.

The more Hulk was out in the world, the more he understood and the better he became at processing the sensory input and ignoring the chronic pain that came with the big, green body. He knew Banner was looking for a “cure” for it . . . for the Hulk. Banner wanted control. He didn’t want to share it, and he blamed Hulk for his pain. Banner saw Hulk as a condition to be treated, a problem to be eliminated. Hulk didn’t understand that conclusion. He was a part of Banner. He’d saved Banner from himself, and, now that he thought about it, from every situation he forced Hulk to face instead. Hulk was not the problem. Hulk solved problems, but Banner didn’t understand that. It made no sense. 

His existence post-accident went from being painfully forced into the world to resisting Banner with equal force when the scientist fought to keep him inside. Hulk channeled both their anger, which sent him out already raging mad at whatever had triggered Banner. They had both met their match in each other. Since he couldn’t physically fight Banner, he fought whatever was in front of him. Bullies, soldiers, petty criminals, police officers, bears—it made no difference, but he avoided hurting people unless they hurt Banner. Hulk had standards.

Banner figured out what internal conditions caused the transformations, so he concentrated on repressing his emotional and biological triggers, but from time to time, he slipped up. In Brazil, as he learned to control his physical reactions and searched for a radiation-suppressing “cure,” Banner had avoided an “incident” for several months. (Hulk just loved Banner’s euphemisms.) Even though he wasn’t in control, Hulk could sometimes hear and see through Banner when the man let his guard down. Hulk liked the dog Ricky and learning Portuguese as they watched old episodes of _The Courtship of Eddie's Father_ , but he disliked some of Banner’s coworkers. He’d enjoy the fight with the bullies he knew was coming. It took a good while, but eventually the opportunity presented itself. The transformation hurt like Hell, but he’d enjoyed the rough justice in the factory. Banner didn’t wake up till the next day in Guatemala, but Hulk had guessed right—it was time to go home because Betty’s father was on their tail.

Hulk fought the General and his man Blonsky again. Hulk was the strongest. He protected Banner and Betty. He recognized the woods and took her to a safe place from the guns and machines. She talked to him. She thought he was Banner. The storm hurt his eyes and ears. It was good not to be alone, even if it was for only a few hours. He stayed there until he knew she was safe. The next time he was forced out, it was in a lab, and Betty was there again, trying to calm him, but she still thought he was Banner. Being forced back inside hurt worse than being shoved out. He’d never felt so stressed. The joke was on them and this “Mr. Blue” because Hulk was still there. For once, he was petty and let Banner know what pain felt like before he came out. At last, Hulk had a real fight on his hands. He had to think and not just smash, but he was strongest. Betty still thought he was Banner, and that made being around her dangerous. It was time to go north again. Fight and flight. Smash and run.

Miraculously, after that, Banner quit trying to kill him. It was less of a struggle when he brought Hulk out, and there was nothing to be mad at except some dishes in the sink. Hulk wouldn’t do Banner’s dishes, but he didn’t break anything when he left the cabin either. It was nice to walk in the woods without being chased. The lake was pretty to look at. Hulk was in a good mood, so he even walked back to the cabin before he sat down in the yard. He didn’t want Banner to be wandering around lost. Hulk really wasn’t a jerk. In the dirt, Hulk wrote his name with a stick. He would have written more, but his time was up.

Things changed even more after that, Banner decided he should embrace more of his emotions again. It kept Hulk closer to the surface, and he was more aware of what Banner saw, thought, and felt. This wasn’t bad, but it was irritating to have what Banner perceived forced onto him. It was like having an upstairs neighbor stomping around or watching TV at 3:00am or, even worse, him being a puppet with no autonomy. Hulk didn’t need or want Banner’s hand up his ass all the time. He wasn’t a guard dog to starve and keep chained up either. It was hard on both of them. 

Hulk would rather have been left alone, but the fortunate part of this was seeing that Banner had quit wanting to die. He’d finally made up his mind to help others and do good things. That made sense to Hulk. Banner should appreciate what he does have. Hulk did his best to tolerate Banner.

It was a long time before Hulk was pushed out again, and Hulk had felt something was wrong for days before that. Banner had chosen to help find something with a gamma signature and left Kolkata with a woman he didn’t fully trust. Banner was honest with her, but she lied to him. Hulk thought Banner was letting himself be played, which meant Hulk was going to be protecting him or finding a way to leave again soon. It was always fight or flight, smash or run. When he studied the woman, it made more sense why Banner was helping her. She was afraid of them, but she was brave and did her job anyway. Betty was like that. Hulk thought this woman had more common sense though. Betty would have gotten herself killed if they had stayed. This one seemed to like living dangerously. He liked her hair. Banner liked her, too.

The other people they met were also different. Banner liked them and wanted to belong. He liked Stark. Hulk thought Stark wasn’t too boring. It had been a long time since Banner had friends. Having friends was good, but more for Hulk to worry about. They were working in a lab, and something poison was there. It whispered bad things. Hulk could hear it like a dog whistle just out of normal range, and it wanted people to fight. It liked turmoil. Hulk tried to ignore the sound, but it grated on his nerves. Banner could feel it too, but he thought it was the “Other Guy.” It wasn’t Hulk’s fault, so that irritated him further. Banner was arguing with the others, edging closer and closer to letting Hulk out. Then came the blast.

Banner and Tasha landed on the deck below. Banner was hurt and irritated and angry with himself. He was holding back Hulk as hard as he could, but white knuckling it under those circumstances was a losing proposition. The woman had tried to get him away from the poison thing, so he could leave, but they were too late. Banner didn’t realize his desperation was making the transition more painful and harder for Hulk to stay in control. They pushed away from the woman, but everything burned. Hulk’s brain was on fire like the first time. He only saw red, raw pain, so he could only fall back on his instincts to protect Banner and run. First, fight then flight.

Hulk chased the first thing that moved. He roared, playing cat and mouse with what he thought hurt Banner. He caught up and cornered it, but as his vision cleared, he realized he’d chased the redheaded woman. This made no sense, but just as Hulk decided she wasn’t a threat, something more his size hit him and they broke through the wall into a hanger. This Hulk understood because it meant a fight. If he hadn’t been irritated, fighting Thor might have been fun, but eventually he left the flying ship on another irritating smaller plane. It was a relief to fall and clear his head from the poison thing. As he got closer to the ground, he knew it was his turn to be responsible and aimed himself away from people before he crashed through the roof of the warehouse. Banner could deal with it. Hulk had done his best.

In a surprisingly short turnaround, Hulk was back, but this time Banner actually wanted him there. It was much easier to be clear headed and know what needed smashing. He fought space whales and alien troops and the bastard who brought the poison into their midst. It was a good fight and they won. Hulk was strongest. He’d even caught Stark when he fell through the hole in the sky. The stairs sucked, but Hulk decided he liked this. He felt useful to more people than just Banner. For once, the man wasn’t mad at Hulk. Banner left with Stark and went back to work in the tower. He didn’t need Hulk for a long time because he was happy, but eventually he called on Hulk again.

Hulk wasn’t surprised the redhead was there, too. She and Stark were why Hulk hadn’t needed an exit strategy from New York. Tasha helped tell Hulk where to go and what to smash. Afterward, she talked to him. He knew he was being played because she wanted Banner back. That’s how it worked now. He supposed that made sense. She made Banner happy and that meant less for Hulk to worry about. She had an odd way of asking Hulk to leave. She was brave enough to get close to him and touch his arm, running her fingers down his forearm to his wrist and palm. She talked about the sun going down. Somehow, it was comforting to be touched, and he was reassured that she’d take care of Bruce. She was hypnotic. He wanted to trust her. It made sense for him to let go. 

That was Hulk’s secret—he wanted to get along as much as Banner. Hulk wanted to belong. He liked being an Avenger. 

Hulk liked being a part of the team, and he’d decided he liked Tasha. He knew she only got close to him to be close to Banner, but he liked her company. She liked Banner more, but Hulk understood why. Still, Banner couldn’t help her fight the way Hulk could. He’d saved her ass and shielded her. She valued that, so maybe he was more to her than a door to open and close or a switch to turn on and off. _Maybe_. Thor treated him like a comrade, Steve treated him with respect, Clint made him laugh, Tony kept calling him by the wrong name, but he was kind and treated Banner well. Hulk liked the pants Tony gave Banner that didn’t rip and fall off. They were all friends. He liked working with them, but he wondered if there were more things for him to do beyond a Code Green and some guided, organized smashing. The more he was out, the more he longed for something else.

All had been going well for longer than it had before, but Hulk knew better than to expect it to go on forever. Banner was happy and he was closer to Tasha. Hulk saw she liked the scientist. He was okay with it. Unlike Betty, Tasha knew he was not the same person as Banner. She was also able to take care of herself. Hulk respected that, but he also knew bad things could still happen. Experience had taught him that life was never fair. Not for long. When bad things happened to Banner or Hulk, they happened fast.

Banner had been on edge for two days because of something that was his own fault. He felt guilty and afraid of what was happening. Hulk expected the call for him to come out and fix things would come soon, but Banner was shut down tight. He didn’t want Hulk out until they were in South Africa looking for Banner and Stark’s mistake: Ultron. At first, Banner thought it might be time for smashing, but he quickly changed his mind. He was running and trying to hide, but the twins caught him. 

She wanted the Hulk, but Banner begged her and fought her. Hulk understood why. The red witch wanted Hulk to hurt people, so he refused to come out. That made her mad, and the man hurt Banner. She went into Banner’s mind looking for “the Big One.” She looked for the worst memory of all and found their father killing their mother. She made them relive it again and again then changed it so Hulk was killing her. That finally broke his resolve. Hulk was there to protect Banner, but when he came out ready to defend him, all Hulk could hear or see was an awful red buzzing. The red witch was in his head and all he could do was run because there was nothing to fight. 

This was worse than the first time he came out, worse than on the flying ship. She laughed and mocked him, making him relive being helpless and then murdering Mom as he ran with his senses too overloaded to know where he was or who he was trying to fend off. Some of them had guns and gas, so he fought back. They were so loud and it hurt him. He realized he was fighting Stark too late because he was too mad to quit. Hulk only came back to himself after Stark dropped the building on him. Now, he could see and hear the people he’d hurt. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t what he wanted to do. He wasn’t helping anyone. This made no sense. Banner couldn’t make sense of it either, but he didn’t want Hulk to help him anymore. Hulk had to agree. Even when the red witch attacked Banner, they both fought to keep Hulk inside. 

He wasn’t happy when Tasha forced him to come out in Sokovia. Banner had wanted to leave with her. No more using Hulk. Fighting wasn’t Banner’s choice, but Hulk understood the logic of her betrayal. He was her ticket to the action. They were part of the team and people needed saving, so he did what she asked to “finish the job” and joined them on the flying rock. “Now, go be a hero,” she told him. That was simple: save people and fight robots. He managed to do that with gusto. Eventually, Tasha came for him on a playground because their job was done and she wanted Banner back. 

Maybe now they would leave together? Yet, Ultron had other ideas. It fired at Hulk, but hit Tasha because she was near him. Hulk took her to safety on the old flying ship he remembered, but his job wasn’t done. He leapt to the Quinjet Ultron had commandeered and unceremoniously threw its metal ass out the back.

Hulk closed the rear doors and heard Tasha speaking to him over the comms. She wanted him to bring Banner back to her, but now it was finally Hulk’s turn to decide. He’d always tried to protect Banner by fighting or running. He’d never had the autonomy to make his own choice about their future before. Banner loved this woman, but she’d used him to get to Hulk. She’d also used Hulk to get to Banner. If he went back, would things change or would this pattern continue? He liked her, but she’d been wounded because she was near him. The Avengers were now working with the red witch who’d caused Banner and him so much pain. People were hurt. People were dead. Maybe it was time to find someplace where he wouldn’t hurt the people that he and Banner cared about? Tasha said the Quinjet was cloaked, and they couldn’t follow him. It was a hard decision, but he made it. Hulk looked at her image one last time and turned off the comms.

Looking back, taking the Quinjet through the space anomaly might not have been the smartest move, but after a rough start, Sakaar had turned out to be all right. He’d stayed in control because Banner would have returned to Earth. Hulk, not Banner, was able to survive deep space in an atmosphere-based craft. When they landed on Sakaar, Hulk quickly found it wasn’t a safe place for Banner, so he made the call that it was Banner’s turn to sleep for longer. It felt selfish, but he was the one who could survive. He hoped that made sense to Banner.

Sakaar was like the Old West with gladiators, a pop culture fashion sense, and a very weird egomaniac in charge. The moment he opened the Quinjet’s hatch, the Angry Girl got the jump on him and tazed him good. Going through the anomaly seemed to have weakened him a little and the air was thin. For the first time, Hulk felt physically vulnerable. He tried to pull the device off and convulsed for what seemed like an eternity. Fair enough, she won, but it didn’t take Hulk long to figure out the system there could potentially reward his talents. He’d been a hero on Earth, sometimes, but to many, he’d always been a dangerous monster. Banner couldn’t even joke about it with his friends without Hill or even Barton shooting him a sour look. Hulk understood why. He was dangerous to all the smaller puny humans there. Here on Sakaar, it was almost the opposite. They wanted him to fight, and no one but Hulk cared if he hurt or killed people.

The arena armorer had made him take a weapon and shocked him until he put up with the helmet. They’d done that earlier when he didn’t want a language chip put in his neck, too. “You’re going to need this you green trog!” ZAAAP! Hulk was surprised the needle went into his skin, but now he understood what they wanted.

By the time he arrived at the barber’s place, Hulk had decided not to give the old man a hard time, so Hulk was rewarded with not having his hands manacled. “See, you big galoot, I do a lot better job around the ears when you cooperate! I hate having to sew those damn things back on.”

Hulk looked at himself in the mirror the old man held up. Banner never wore his hair this short. Too military. Hulk decided he liked it. “Looks good. Thanks.”

“Thank me by murdering that Saisarvonian today, Kid. I have 12 credits on you and the odds are 50 to one. Papa needs a new pair of anti-grav boots!”

“Double it,” Hulk told the old man.

For his first match, he’d gotten something way bigger than him with six legs and a lizardish head. Hulk was pretty sure it wasn’t all that sentient, but he was certain it was hungry and thought he was on its menu. The atmosphere on Sakaar, he was coming to realize, was a bit short on oxygen compared to Earth. No wonder the odds were against him! As the challenger, he was announced first: “Gentle citizens of Sakaar, for our third bout, we present to you, newly arrived from Ea-ir-th . . . Ertz, the Green . . .”

“HULK!” he roared. At least they could get his name right here.

“Okay, big guy, keep your helmet on. We present . . . The Huuuuulk!”

There were a few scattered cheers and a handful of boos in the huge crowd. His ugly-bug opponent fared better as the crowd got more pumped up. The fight was early on the billot, so many people were still filing in and taking their seats. The Grandmaster had just entered his royal box and was schmoozing with dignitaries and lackeys.

Hulk got his head into the game. While he was adjusting to his new environment, the faster he got this job done, the better. Still, he couldn’t just go charging in like he normally did and pound it into submission with his fists. They’d made him take a spear for his weapon, so when the big scrambling thing came at him, he dodged its jaws until he had the timing down. Hulk roared a challenge at the Saisarvonian, and it roared back. When it brought its jaws down, it had a painful surprise as it chomped on his spear, which was now wedged vertically in its maw. The creature was so surprised, Hulk had no trouble leaping high in the air and using a double-fisted piledriver on the top of the thing’s head to drive the spearpoint through its skull and into its puny brain with a sickening, wet crunch. After a moment of stunned silence in the stands, he raised his arms in the air and roared his triumph, “HHUUULLKK!!!”

The crowd erupted with cheers and chanted, “HULK-HULK-HULK-HULK!” It made him laugh because he liked it. There was a bit of an attitude in his step as he sauntered out of the arena.

Within two hours, he had real quarters and a second match further up the bill the following day. As he strutted out of the cheer-filled arena with his broken club in hand and a second victory under his belt, the Angry Girl was there to meet him. “You have no technique, and your moves are the sloppiest I’ve ever seen.”

“So?” Hulk said stoically.

“So, you’re not going to get much further without proper training, no matter how much raw talent you have. Come on. You’re at least warmed up now. I have practice time scheduled for us in a gym.”

“Why do you care?” He pointed at the obedience disk. “You’re the one who tazed me and enslaved me.”

“If I didn’t do it, someone else would, and they’d let you die in the arena tomorrow. I have a reputation to consider, and you have enough talent and showmanship to get to the top. I can also get you better fights, so you can make it to the Championship faster and stay there.”

“Angry Girl isn’t telling the whole story,” he surmised.

“I’ve got money on you Big Guy, so that’s all you need to know.” She took a swig from the bottle she’d been holding and offered it to him.

Hulk took a drink, but immediately spat it out. “Booze.” He shook his head and handed her back the bottle.

She gave him a puzzled look. “You don’t like Kree Fire Ale?”

Hulk shuddered and grimaced with dislike. “Our father was a mean drunk. Not my thing.”

“Really, maybe you ought to have a few before you fight,” she said with a crafty grin.

“Maybe after you train Hulk to be the Champion, Angry Girl.” He held up his hand with the palm out to her and she slapped it.

They’d made a good team. It didn’t take long for him to work his way into the top tier, which meant he had more time to train between matches and more perks to enjoy. Hulk’s obedience disk was removed when he’d reached the top eight fighters. The Grandmaster upgraded his living quarters and sent over cooks, masseuses, and servants to do his bidding. Hulk had no idea what to do with them, but most of them knew what to do with him, for him, or to him. Once he got used to it, he enjoyed the rubdowns and the food. The offers of other pleasures he’d turned away. Too complicated and he’d not wanted to hurt anyone.

Over the months, he realized that the longer he was out, the more desensitized he became to sensory overloads, but the pain was always there at some level as a burning in his gut, spine, limbs, skin, and skull. The aching discomfort never completely went away. The hot water baths and the masseuse helped, but relief never lasted that long. Still, he was making his own decisions and learning many things, so he was happy most of the time and not dwelling on the past.

Hulk also decided he liked having clothing that fit him, and Angry Girl showed him the markets where almost anything could be bought, made, or bartered. He broke weapons regularly, so he got to know the armorers well. He couldn’t even keep a tally of his wins on a hilt or handle, so, as a joke, Angry Girl bought him beads and added one for each victory to make him a necklace, then two, and then a third one.

Later, on his first visit to the markets after the obedience disk was removed, there was a noisy crowd in one quarter that drew his attention. Angry Girl was with him and steered him away from the gathering. “Trust me, Big Guy. You don’t want to go there.”

“Why?”

“That’s the slave market.”

“Thought fighters were the only slaves here?” Hulk asked.

“Frigga’s garters, you’re so naive! What do you think your servants are? Prisoners with jobs?” the scrapper laughed snidely.

Hulk looked over the heads of the crowd at a young blue-skinned woman standing alone on a dais with her hands bound and an obedience disk on her neck. “Does Hulk have money?”

“Yes, you have a lot of money, but you’re not going to spend it there. Trust me, you are not the slave-owning type, and I’m not going to let you become one of them.”

“Buy them and set them free,” he argued.

“No, that’s not how the economy functions here. They can work their way to freedom when they have the skills and means to support themselves. Most owners honor that, including the Grandmaster. If you buy one, then you’re responsible for all that. You can’t just set them free and expect them to fend for themselves here like a stray pet. Sakaar is _not_ a kind place. They’ll end up as fodder in the arena or worse.”

Hulk wrinkled his brow in thought. He wasn’t ready to know what “worse” meant yet. “This makes no sense.”

“No, but nothing short of a rebellion is going to change things. For now, it’s a necessary evil, which makes me thirsty. Your new clothes should be ready, and we’re supposed to get some fry gourds and noodle lice for dinner. Come on.”

Hulk went with her, but he remembered what she’d told him and thought about it.

That night he’d dreamed about Banner and wondered what would have happened to him here on Sakaar. Probably “or worse.” Hulk felt bad that he’d imprisoned him inside, but as Angry Girl had said, it was a necessary evil. That didn’t mean he felt good about it. Part of him suggested it was only fair. Banner had been in charge since the accident and before, it was only right that Hulk had a turn to do what he wanted for a change. Sakaar was the first place he’d found suited to him, so he had no motivation for letting Banner out or leaving just yet. If the situation changed, he would consider it again. Until then, he had a goal and it was to fight and prove he was the strongest on Sakaar.

Hulk sat up in bed and stared across the room. Banner was pacing and wringing his hands. If he weren’t a projection, he’d be wearing a path in the fur rugs. “What do you want?” Hulk asked.

“I want to go home,” his alter ego said, and he approached Hulk like he’d just realized he was there.

Hulk stretched and wiped his eyes. Banner was still there when he opened them again and looked at him expectantly. “Why do you want to go back? They hate us there.”

Banner sat down on the edge of the huge bed beside him. “Yeah, thanks a lot. We’re probably on wanted posters.”

“You’re welcome,” Hulk groused back. It was kind of both their faults, but that was water under the bridge.

“I was going to leave with Natasha. We were going to try and make things work. All I’ve ever wanted was something mundane and normal,” the physicist said sadly. _I don’t always get what I want,_ echoed in Hulk’s head.

Hulk understood that.“I know, but Tasha lied to you. I get why, but she’s used us both.”

“It’s not that simple, Hulk. There wasn’t enough time to get me onboard with her plan and get you out before the city flew too high. She knew we wanted to do the right thing as much as she did. We ought to cut her some slack for that.”

“Maybe. But, if we didn’t leave, Hulk was afraid she would just get hurt again because she was close to us. You can’t tell Hulk you haven’t done the same thing.”

“Maybe so,” Banner shrugged. “But, don’t we both love her?”

Hulk rolled his eyes. _Love_. There it was again. She’d told that ass Loki it was “for children.” Maybe hers was for Barton’s children, but it certainly wasn’t for Hulk. Maybe for Banner, but not for him. Pity was about it. Hulk didn’t want her pity. Her pity made his head hurt. “Sure. Anything you say, but I really don’t factor into this equation.” He hadn’t meant to get mad, but he was headed there. Hulk wanted to shake Banner so bad. “Have you ever noticed you don’t really come first with her?”

Banner gestured with his left and then his right hand as he spoke. “Let’s see, me or the world? Which is clearly more important?” Banner asked irritability. Hulk noted he’d said “me” and not “us.”

“You dumb dope. It’s always going to be that way—her putting off having a life because there’s always a new crisis or emergency coming. She’s married to her work, her damn mission. Obligation drives her, _not love_.” He probably shouldn’t complain because “work” was when he’d had his own time with her. Idiocy obviously ran in their family.

“No, I don’t see it that way,” Banner shook his head. “Eventually, things are going to slow down. We’ll have time and we’ll be together.” Hulk thought Banner sounded like he was trying to convince himself now.

Hulk growled his doubt and disagreement. He couldn’t see this turning out happily for all three of them or even two at once. A year ago, he’d have settled for that—the two of them being happy together with Hulk as their third wheel. Not now. He knew there was more for him out here. He was good at fighting and running, so maybe he’d be the one to “run with it” for a change. Hulk chewed at his lower lip in agitation, but he said nothing.

Banner seemed perturbed that Hulk didn’t agree with his rosy outlook. “Fine, allow me something I can look forward to, so I can get through this situation. I can’t live without some hope.”

Hulk bit his tongue so he wouldn’t say something cruel but true about hopelessness and the stupidity of guns and self-harm. Instead, he took a breath. “Fair enough. I’m sorry I can’t let you out. There are things here that would amaze you, but there are even more that would kill your puny ass before Hulk could save it. I can’t let that happen. It’s Hulk’s turn.”

“Thanks, I probably deserve to have the roles reversed for a while.” Banner crossed his arms and sulked. Hulk raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t say anything in response. “You know, I saw this reversal thing was coming,” Banner said with agitation. “I’ve felt like I’ve been losing ground to you for months. I suppose it’s fair for you to have your time in the world.”

For a freaking genius, sometimes Banner could be so dumb. “You’ve always been a control freak. Now you don’t need to be. Please, relax. Rest up while you can.” Banner shrugged listlessly. Hulk let out an exasperated huff. “You know, you can talk with me almost any time you want. I’m not the one who puts up walls and cuts communication off. That’s your decision. You own it.” Banner looked bewildered, as if he’d been slapped in the face, like the idea had never occurred to him. Hulk almost laughed. “Dream well, puny Bruce,” Hulk told him and lay back down, turning his back to the astral form.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to EmilyGrace13 and Autumn_Froste (who is still feeling sick). Any errors are all mine!
> 
> I really miss the Big Guy. I'm not sure we'll ever really see him again in the MCU, so thanks for indulging me a bit while I tell his story. I'm trying to bridge what we've seen in the films and connect some of the dots, so we have a better setup for how the Hulk and Banner relationship works, and how they came to merge as part of an integration process. I don't see Hulk as unintelligent so much as inexperienced with the world because it's been filtered through Bruce. He's not a genius, but Hulk is far from dumb or simply vicious or just angry. I've always liked the idea that he's a type of guardian for Bruce who has misunderstood Hulk from the accident forward. When the accident gives him a chance to have control of their body and be out in the world, he's overwhelmed with pain and sensory input. The more time he spends out, the more in control of himself he is and the more he comes to value his autonomy and independence from Bruce. 
> 
> I'm of the opinion that they have a sibling relationship. In _Special Needs_, I get into this much more deeply with Disappearing Twin Syndrome as an explanation. Here, I've tried to keep that type of feeling between them. Hulk understands it while Banner is in the dark until he finally listens.
> 
> I know a lot of diehard Hulk fans did not like what Taika Waititi did with Hulk in Thor: Ragnarok, but after Infinity War and Endgame, I don't think he did Hulk nearly as much of a disservice as the Russos. (I won't get into angsty Banner here since that's a different issue.) There is a junior novel that leads into Ragnarok, so I've touched on some of its plot points concerning Hulk's arrival on Sakaar, and I imagined what happened to the Big Guy as he made his home there. I tried to better explain a few plot holes and gaps here, and there will be others next chapter. I wanted to explore how Angry Girl/Valkyrie's and the Big Guy's friendship developed over that couple of years since it was obvious they were close. I also wanted to complicate some of the issues of colonialism that Waititi brought to the table since Sakaar is a planet of slaves and, unlike the comics, Hulk doesn't play the savior, but is instead a privileged member at the top of that corrupt dictatorship. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it. I hope the humor worked and didn't confuse anyone too much!
> 
> If you'd like to see the cover edits for each part, check out my Pinterest board. This one is pretty Hulky.
> 
> You know I love to discuss things and hear what you think (no comments scares me a bit). Thanks for keeping me going! Comments, questions, and commiseration are always welcome! Please give a like, a follow, a kudo, a review, a share, a tweet, and tell your friends to give it a read!
> 
> Next up: "Part 9: Rise and Fall." Hulk's perspective, as he smashes his way to the championship!


	9. Part 9: Rise and Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s still the Big Guy’s turn. This part covers Hulk's rise to Champion of Sakaar and his growing social and moral awareness of his situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a flashback to the events leading up to and including Thor: Ragnarok through Avengers: Infinity War from Hulk’s perspective. They are remembered on Friday, July 6, 2018, during Bruce's initial visit to Willowdale, VA, to begin therapy with Leonard (Lee) Samson. This is the second chapter from Hulk's point of view, which covers what should have been a three-film Banner and Hulk story arc.

It took six more months by his reckoning, but Hulk was ready to take on the Grandmaster’s Champion. He’d worked his way through beasts, monsters, warriors, cyborgs, robots, and something like a fungus, which had been one of the more difficult ones. The Grandmaster himself announced the match as a huge hologram and introduced him as “The! Incredible! HUULLKK!!!” and Hulk leapt into the center of the arena. The Sakaarans screamed and chanted his name as he brandished his great ax and broadsword above his head, flexing and showing off his poses for the crowd. Everyone was standing and stomping. He loved it! This made him happy! Then, it was time to face the current Champion. Hulk knew the routine and stood on the Challenger’s side of the arena floor, grimacing fiercely and posturing for his fans.

“Wow, the Green Goliath is a crowd pleaser here at the Contest of Champions! He’s certainly one of my personal favorites. Now, let’s show some enthusiasm for his competition. My fellow Sakaarans, I present to you your current Champion, rider of winds, the myth, the legend . . . KAMAITAKI!!!” The doors opened and a dust devil swept through and grew into a huge column of wind and flying debris. Hulk pulled the visor down on his new helmet and stood impassively waiting as the edge of the dust cloud swept past him. He’d seen the creature fight several times before, so he was prepared with new armor and tactics.

Contestants weren’t supposed to use outright magic, but some fighters had innate abilities that definitely pushed that rule. Kamaitaki was one of them. As the wind and dust settled down, a creature resembling a seven-meter long brown ferret on steroids stood growling and baring its sharp, foot-long teeth at Hulk. Not only did the beast have poisonous fangs, its four sets of claws were like curved sword blades. It’s reflexes and attacks were lightning fast, but it often relied on cunning.

Fighting it straight up would have been a challenge, but its mastery of creating and utilizing cyclonic bursts of wind made it difficult to defend against or hit with a weapon or a fist. Hulk had seen it wear down opponents and play with them before it darted in to take a venomous nosh and let the fighter slowly collapse before delivering its coup de grâce with its claws. It could be cruel and calculating with its tactics, but Hulk had talked to his friend, the old barber, who seldom missed a match, and come up with several ideas. They often strategized when Hulk needed a shave or trim, and even Angry Girl had to admit the old man knew his stuff.

Hulk was well known for charging straight ahead and hitting his opponent like a ton of angry, green bricks. He cultivated that simple, unschooled image, but Angry Girl had him practicing and working with a variety of weapons and strategies. She realized he would never have a great deal of finesse, but Hulk usually made up for it with strength and durability. He was also enthusiastic and pretty damn stubborn, so as long as he had a clear goal to work toward, like becoming the Champion, he would do what she told him (and not complain) to get the job done.

Their plan was to give the crowd a good show of what they’d come to expect: lots of raging and offensive power moves. If any connected, great, but what they were waiting for was the bite. Hulk had been on Sakaar for about a year then, so he’d regained almost all of his physical abilities and strength, including his nearly impenetrable skin and his quick healing. Their strategy depended on his skin and his healing factor shrugging off or stymieing Kamaitaki’s bite and its poison. From there, it might play out several ways, but Hulk felt ready to meet every possibility they’d thought up. Hulk had also chosen lighter armor that gave him greater mobility with versatility in mind.

During training, Angry Girl had even insisted on finally getting him drunk, so he could have a feel for the “disembodiment of the experience,” which supposedly resembled being poisoned by Kamaitaki’s bite. Hulk was pretty certain she had ulterior motives. It had taken a lot of alcohol for him to feel “buzzed,” but he hadn’t puked or passed out. Afterward, the seductive pleasantness of being numb, even for just a few minutes, scared him. He thought her drinking herself into a stupor was an odd way for her to handle her pain if that was why she was always doing it. Still, the idea of him imitating his father was enough for him to stay clear of it. Troubles were generally better faced head on in his opinion. Fight them or get the hell away.

Hulk brought his attention back in focus as the Grandmaster shouted: “Let the Contest of Champions BEGIN!!!” The crowd roared and so did Hulk as he charged forward only to meet the full force of Kamaitaki’s column of air. Having planned for this, Hulk stabbed his broadsword into the ground for a stable point to brace against and then sheathed his ax between his shoulder blades to free up his hands. Next, Hulk brought his palms together in a thunderous clap that collapsed the column of air, revealing a very surprised Kamaitaki overhead, scrambling to stay aloft. (Later, he learned the Grandmaster had found it quite amusing when everyone’s cocktail glasses in the suite had exploded since he wasn’t holding one at the time. The windows in most of the luxury suites—not so much.)

Hulk grabbed his sword and closed the distance between them. Kamaitaki twisted like a cat in freefall to land on all fours. Hulk led with a slash at the beast’s left shoulder, which the creature instantly slapped away with its right front claws. Hulk kept up his momentum and slammed into its dark-furred shoulder with his own. What he lacked in size compared to his opponent, Hulk made up for with ferocity.

A surprised Kamaitaki rolled and scrambled for purchase with its claws on the loosely packed dirt of the arena floor. Hulk spun and attempted to bring his blade down on the beast’s spine with a two-handed blow, but the huge weasel-like creature bit down on the back of his armor where the great ax was attached and flung him away with a flick of its muscular neck. Hulk landed on all fours, but he still had his broadsword in hand. There was bubbling purple blood smeared along the last foot of the blade. 

He’d hardly stopped skidding when he charged back into the fray. Kamaitaki reared back on its hind legs with its front claws raking the air and its snake-fast jaws snapping. Hulk used the flat side of his blade to deliver a blow to the side of the creature’s jaw, but its claws raked at his thigh, drawing blood. Kamaitaki growled and hissed till a perturbed Hulk connected with a backhand blow to the other side of its jaw.

Reeling a bit, Kamaitaki had had enough of being smacked around, so it launched itself into the air and created a column of wind. “Weasel fight! Not run!” Hulk shouted. Determinedly, he bit down on the blade of his sword and sprang after Kamaitaki, grabbing its tail at the base with the idea of destabilizing it in the air. Hulk had to keep it on the ground to win.

Listing badly atop the column, the wind-rider furiously kicked at its unwanted passenger as they rose higher and higher. Hulk held on stubbornly, and the two were soon stalled out and dropping from a little over 100 meters. Kamaitaki wriggled, attempting to get the upper position and crush Hulk underneath its body. That was just what Hulk wanted.

He climbed its fur and pressed the sword to its belly just in time for the impact with the arena floor. Hulk was glad to have gotten the blade positioned correctly because a double impalement would have been embarrassing if not fatal. Kamaitaki’s reaction was a lot more visceral as it rolled and clawed at its belly, shrieking with pain. Hulk had some of the wind knocked out of him, but he was quickly back on his feet with his great ax now in hand.

Kamaitaki got its feet under it, too, but the beast was clearly in pain. “Yield!” Hulk shouted, giving it a chance to back down. “Hulk Champion!”

“NEVER!” it growled, and it pointed to the claw wounds on Hulk’s right thigh that were now doused in Kamaitaki’s purple blood. “Sloooow Death,” it hissed with a satisfied sneer.

Hulk didn’t feel any worse, but his sword was starting to dissolve in a bubbling purple puddle of the vile stuff on the ground between them. Hulk patted the head of his ax as he weighed it in his left hand and gripped the handle with his right. “Have it your way.” He covered the distance between them in a heartbeat and came down with the blade on Kamaitaki’s neck. Hulk sprang away from the flailing limbs and claws. He’d avoided being bitten and wanted to keep it that way. Another pass with a well-placed stroke severed the creature’s head. Hulk raised his ax above his own head and roared his victory.

Halfway through the Title Ceremony, Hulk noticed he was starting to feel a bit off balance. Angry Girl noted it too, so she urged the officials to speed things up a bit and then led him quickly to the infirmary afterward.

The healers cleaned him up and worked on the wound. Angry Girl had retrieved what was left of the broadsword. Most parts were still intact, but there were a number of holes and fissures in the blade. No one had ever seen anything quite like it. In contrast, the ax’s metal had been wiped down and showed no damage.

“Looks like it’s eating away something in the metal,” one of the techs suggested.

Hulk could only squint at it since his vision was blurry. “Banner says, ‘Iron,’” he muttered.

“Who’s ‘Banner’?” Angry Girl asked with a frown.

“Doctor,” Hulk said groggily. “A chemist . . . no, phizzzzikist,” he slurred.

“Alchemist? Don’t know ‘em,” the healer cleaning the three parallel wounds chimed in. The gashes weren’t deep, but they were seeping both purplish red and green. The worrisome part was, the wounds weren’t closing up as was normal for him.

“Buuooernz,” Hulk complained. It seriously hurt.

There was a scuffle outside the infirmary door, so Angry Girl investigated, dagger and obedience fob in hand.

“I told you, I’m his barber. Now back off, Sonny!”

“Let him in,” she said with a sigh and threw the door open.

The old barber straightened his jacket and shot a withering look at the guards and orderlies who’d harassed him before he walked in with a dignified air. “Congratulations, Hulk. I saw what happened, and I brought you something to help.”

“Thaanks,” Hulk said and tried to smile. He was beginning to get queasy.

“Step back you quacks, there’s only one thing to do with wounds infected with Kamaitaki’s blood.”

“Hold there! The Grandmaster is going to be pissed off it you mess with his new Champion,” one of healers argued.

“He’s gonna be a lot madder if you let him die. You know what I have here? This is the good stuff, buddy! Let me see that leg.” He pushed the healers aside and squinted at Hulk’s leg, took his glasses off, and looked closer, then he sniffed. “Yeah, it’s gone alcoholic. I’m here just in time.” The barber pulled out a small metal flask from the breast pocket of his jacket. “Anyone got a lighter?”

“Why?” Angry Girl asked with a worried look as she pulled out a flame lighter.

The old man took out what Hulk recognized as a cigar and bit off the end and spat it out. “Here hold this,” he said as he gave the brown piece of tobacco to her and took her tool. She held it at arm’s length. “Stand back!” Very quickly, he took a mouthful of liquid from his flask and engaged the flame lighter before he spit the liquid on the wounds and ignited the aerosol. 

“Hogath’s hoary . . . !” Everyone jumped back as a fireball went up and instantly dissipated before it got to the ceiling. Hulk hadn’t moved, but his eyes were opened very wide with surprise.

“I told you to stand back,” the old man scolded. He took the cigar from Angry Girl, lit it with her flame lighter, and puffed away. “Thanks for holding that, A.G.,” he said and handed her back her device. “Damned weasel blood.”

“What the hell did you do to Big Guy?!?” Angry Girl demanded, still in a bit of shock.

“I just burned the poison out. Look. See for yourself,” the barber explained and stood aside, puffing on his cigar.

The healers and Angry Girl all stepped back in closer to see all three wounds were starting to close up and heal. Hulk gave the barber a thumbs up and then passed out.

~o~

Hulk became a personal favorite of the Grandmaster though they hardly ever spoke. Which was probably good since Hulk was too blunt to show flattery or talk politics or intrigue. As a reward for becoming Champion, Hulk’s quarters were upgraded again, and Kamaitaki’s skull was turned into a new bedstead for him. To replace the ruined broadsword, the Grandmaster himself had designed an over-the-top war hammer for his “beloved Champion” as well. Hulk kept the crowds happy with his antics, schtick, and showmanship, and that kept the Grandmaster happy because everyone was pacified and mostly compliant. The realization he was a cog in the unjust machine of Sakaar only came about slowly because he was so insulated from the darker aspects in and outside the arena.

By the time Loki and then Thor showed up, Hulk had been Champion for over nine months and was feeling both bored and increasingly guilty. He’d figured out what “or worse” was and started to question his place and its advantages. This happened when the Grandmaster didn’t allow him to finish a fight when an opponent seemed to be getting the upper hand. Angry Girl had tried to explain to him this was because the Grandmaster really did like him best, so rigging the fight in his favor was just part of the game, the narrative they were telling the crowd, but Hulk wasn’t completely buying it. He quit adding the beads she gave him to the necklaces though he still wore them. It wasn’t such a funny joke anymore. He began to wonder how many of the beads he’d actually earned and whether he could trust her to be honest with him.

Another thing that distressed him was she’d pointed out it wasn’t a good idea to offer mercy to his opponents. That one they’d argued about, and she’d noted none of the fighters he’d let live ever showed back up again in the arena. “Where do you think they go? Some gladiator Valhalla or a pleasure planet like Contraxia?” His heart sank when he realized this was true. Now, he thought he really understood something about why she drank, but he couldn’t figure out what to do about any of it.

Subtlety had never been his forte. Hulk couldn’t get Angry Girl to talk about a solution to their problems, and the barber always changed the subject or got surly if Hulk tried to bring any of it up. Hulk got depressed and refused to practice or fight, so the Grandmaster tried extravagant gifts and parades to demonstrate how beloved Hulk was to coaxed him back into the arena. The Grandmaster even sped up the construction of Hulk’s likeness on the Tower of Champions to cheer him up, too. To top it off, Banner was getting more and more agitated, wanting to go home to a life that didn’t include Hulk.

Hulk finally agreed to start practicing again after Angry Girl pointed out that more people were going to die filling out the billot if he didn’t get back in the arena and claim the top slot. That’s when Thor showed up.

Hulk felt both conflicted and angry to see his old friend and ally in the arena. It was Hulk’s job to pulverize opponents. He had no choice but to fight. Thor didn’t understand anything about putting on a show. He even called Hulk _Banner_ and told him the Avengers thought they were dead. Outside the arena, Hulk wasn’t the best strategist, but Hulk thought he faked Thor’s death pretty convincingly in the arena, which he was glad to do for his old friend, but he didn’t want to leave Sakaar with him. He felt too invested in the system, and Sakaar now felt more like home to him than Earth—no matter how Banner felt. It had its dark side, but he still liked fighting and not apologizing for it or being afraid of hurting innocent people. They still seemed to like him here. He wasn’t just a monster on Sakaar. He knew if he went back with Thor, sooner or later, Banner’s friends would want him back, and he wouldn’t have anything but selfish reasons for refusing him. There had to be a better way, but just like finding a way to fix Sakaar’s bad parts, he couldn’t think of one.

Also, Hulk knew once Banner was out and understood how long he’d been inside, there was going to be a fight. He couldn’t blame Banner, but Hulk didn’t want things to go back to the way they were either. Maybe the reason he felt so bad about the abusive system on Sakaar was he understood what it was to have been abused, to be imprisoned, to be a slave. He couldn’t face the prospect of more years of being the big green genie inside Banner’s bottle. He was made to fight and to run. He’d been fighting for a long time now, so the running made him feel very conflicted. Then it occurred to him, there was more and he knew how to do more than only those two things. Those were the script he was originally given, but he could rewrite it now if he wanted.

When Thor made his move to find the Quinjet and escape, Hulk had been upset that his friend was leaving him. What upset him more and completely surprised him was the old video recording of Tasha on the Quinjet and the effect it had on him and Banner. It was like Tasha knew the real magic behind the words. It was their special thing and no one else's. Fear and anger had given him the edge over Banner for over two years, but Banner’s connection to her was even stronger than Hulk had thought. He couldn’t protect Banner from himself, no matter how hard he fought for control. He prayed Thor would look out for the puny fool because Banner was in way over his head on Sakaar.

While he was back inside, Hulk had time to think. He cheered inwardly when Angry Girl decided to join them, and they sparked the rebellion he wished he’d had the knowledge and foresight to start. What he was not happy about was being back in the same relationship with a nervous, frightened Banner as if nothing had changed. Well, maybe not for Banner, but Hulk was not going to go back to being a slave. Even if they were leaving Sakaar, there had to be something better.

He wasn’t at all surprised when Banner brought him out for the fighting, but Hulk made him pay first on the bridge. The wolf Hulk had been ready to fight, even the fire giant if they’d let him, but later, the annihilation of the _Statesman_ , not at all. They had very little time to strategize when Thanos’ ship appeared. Neither Hulk nor Banner had liked the plan, they weren’t spies, but there was no choice. They had to work together and attempt an espionage mission. Banner had to get aboard to pull the information they needed from the _Sanctuary_ ’s computers, but the spacewalks Hulk took without a suit and transitioning back and forth twice to Banner had cost them both significantly. They were lucky to find the information they did, and Banner was able to use it later to inform Dr. Strange. Unfortunately, the rudimentary virus program they left failed to cause any real damage. Hulk wanted to stay and wreck some real _damage_ , but Banner convinced him to stick with the plan and return to the _Statesman_ and help their friends. The information and saving any lives they could was more important, plus both wanted to avoid being caught.

Even after those setbacks, Hulk should have won or at least bought the Asgardians more time to escape in the life pods as Thanos’ drama with Thor and Loki played out. Instead, when Hulk charged in on cue, he’d soon been flailing at childhood memories of the beatings and his inability to save anyone, Bruce or himself or those they cared about. He’d failed. They both had.

After Heimdall sent him back to earth, Hulk was tired of fighting and running on command, so now he exercised his only other option: refusing to come out at all. Hulk was on strike until Banner agreed to come to the bargaining table. If Sakaar could have a revolution, so could he! Staying inside made him miserable, but Hulk had had enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to EmilyGrace13 and Autumn_Froste (who sounds a little better). Any errors are still all mine!  
> Oh, the head canons! I had a lot of fun writing this part, so I hope you get the humor okay. I like it when the Big Guy gets to do some guilt-free smashing on bigger things, and I like the idea that he does have friends who do value him for himself and what he does do well. I love that Taika Waititi made Sakaar a morally ambiguous place with nuance and complexity. I hope what I added to explain some of the nerfing helped that noxious pill go down a little smoother.  
> In my opinion, Hulk doesn’t need to be completely over powered—Where’s the fun in that?—but I really don’t like how he’s been nerfed to serve as a punching bag for every hero or villain trying to prove something. It’s rather sad to think his biggest feat of strength happened all the way back in The Avengers (2012) when he punched out the charging Chitauri Space Slug/Whale/Leviathan creature with one blow. You cannot say that he quit being mad seven years ago or that he didn’t learn anything from training with the Avengers or Valkyrie for multiple years.  
> Nevertheless, Hulk has been scaled back, muzzled, and used as a big green foil, so characters like Thor and Cap and Thanos can shine oh so nobly. I know I’m not the only one who is absolutely fed up with this. As Hulk might say, it makes no sense to use him like a rug for other characters to keep wiping their feet on when they have their own films and Banner and Hulk have none. How I miss Joss Whedon writing and helming Avengers films since he’s the only one who has really respected both Banner and Hulk, so they didn’t get cheated out of screen time, strength, wit, intelligence, good camera angles, and their dignity. (Frankly, Ruffalo needs a better rep.)  
> Don’t get me wrong, I’m okay with humor, but Hulk and Bruce don’t need to be the butt of every joke under the sun (looking at you Rhodey and Sam) or stand-in for ridicule (clears throat—Shuri) that should have been for Tony—at least give Bruce some credit along with the ego-deflating smack and burn if you have to do it. I know Mark is woke, but enough is enough. The characters don’t deserve to be treated like shit to find a culturally aware medium. C’mon, best of both worlds?  
> Sorry, I wasn’t going to do a rant, but I kind of feel better just articulating my frustrations. We never did get that rematch with Thanos, but I hope you enjoyed Kamaitaki before he became Hulk’s furniture. He's actually out of Japanese folklore if you're interested in finding out more. I’m going to try and get a little more action in before this story is over, so we’ll see how far Banner and Hulk have come together as a “Merged Hulk,” especially after three years of Bruce being the most visible and active of the OGs and mostly working on his own.  
> If you'd like to see the cover edits for each part, check out my Pinterest board. This one has a furry monster, a mad Hulk, a sad Hulk, Angry Girl, and the old Barber, too.  
> I really, really love to discuss things and hear what you think. I know you’re here for the “mature” parts, but I hope you’ve stuck around for the Big Guy. Comments, questions, and commiseration are always welcome! Please give a like, a follow, a kudo, a review, a share, a tweet, and tell your friends to give it a read!  
> Next up: "Part 10: The Other Guy." Hulk finally comes out to talk. Can Bruce handle it? Will Lee still have a gazebo left?


	10. Part 10: The Big Guy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Third (and probably the final) part from just Hulk's point of view. This part covers Hulk's initial session with Lee Samson and the early parts of Hulk and Banner's recovery and internal progress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter starts on Sunday, July 8, 2018, in the Willowdale, VA, and then covers part of that summer as Banner deals with difficult relationship issues, purchasing the Bridgewater property, hiring staff, overseeing renovations to the house and lab space, AND going through therapy to work things out with Hulk. It's from Hulk's point of view, so it's a bit filtered but, I hope, pretty apparent what they've had to cope with. I'm trying some different techniques to show how Banner and Hulk would try a variety of ways to communicate prior to integration: videos, notes on dry-erase boards and written/typed texts that would have required Banner giving some control over to Hulk so he could channel him or let him out to record messages or during therapy sessions. I also like to do dreams and their intersections with the Astral Plane. Fear not, I did get some Nat in here. Enjoy and ask me questions if you have them.

“Welcome . . . Hulk?” Lee Samson both stated and asked.

 _Oh, son of . . . it hurt!!!_ He opened and shut his eyes again. How could the sun be so loud? The odors so bright? The sounds so pungent? It had to be Earth. Again. It always hurt more when he’d sulked inside this long.

“Are you okay?”

He focused on hearing first. It was a kind voice, but Hulk almost laughed. _No_. He wasn’t “okay,” but he needed to pull it together. He knew that voice. The smell of the foliage. It whispered, _Home!_ to him. It had once been home. It smelled like sunshine on wet grass and old fashion roses still blooming in the fall. Maybe he did miss this place he’d left to save it. The place that didn’t love him. Hulk reminded himself that in a short time, he’d adjust to the pain and the sensory onslaught. _Be patient_. This was a time to talk—no smashing or running. He tried opening his eyes again. He hadn’t been outside in months, so that’s why this was so . . . annoyingly painful. _Suck it up, Big Guy!_ he coached himself.

He blinked several times. When he was able to tolerate the light, Hulk looked around until his eyes settled on the person in jeans and a pale blue shirt with rolled up sleeves seated in front of him, and then his eyes finally focused. Banner knew him. His hair was nearly as gray as the physicist’s was now. “Nice backyard, Dr. Samson.” Hulk noticed the children’s plastic and timber playset closer to the house and the three bicycles propped by the corner of the garage. “Like what you’ve done with the place.” His voice sounded like wet gravel, his words slow as setting cement in his throat.

Lee smiled benignly. His heartrate was almost back to normal after witnessing what had to be the most physically agonizing thing he’d ever seen in his life. Hulk’s skin had finally quit smoking. There was a bitter smell that dissipated with it and changed over to an astringent tartness that reminded the psychiatrist of eating unripe apples. It softened to something more pleasant and balanced in a moment. “Thanks. Thank you for coming out this morning. I can see this has to be a painful process for you.”

The guy’s aftershave even smelled sincere, Hulk thought. He chuckled grimly, “Like being forced through a metal shredder with an acid bath chaser. It’ll ease up to tolerable after a while.” Banner must have really wanted him out to talk if he was able to put this many thoughts and words together and then say them out loud. Hulk noted the wooden structure in which they were seated. “Can I get up? I’m not stuck in a summoning circle or something?”

“Oh, ha! Like a demon? No, please get up if you like. Stretch your legs. Are you thirsty? There’s bottled water in the cooler there.”

“Thank you. Maybe later.” Hulk stood up and ducked under the edge of the gazebo’s eve to get a better look at the backyard. The moment his bare feet sunk into the grass, it all felt a little better. Sakaar didn’t really have vegetation, and he’d missed that a great deal. “You know how some people have to sleep with a foot sticking out from under the covers?”

“Yah, I’m like that. Can’t seem to breathe if one foot or the other isn’t out in the air,” Lee acknowledged.

Hulk flexed his toes, smelling the chlorophyll greenness rise up. “The feel of the grass helps me breath. I didn’t remember how much I missed this till now.” He looked down at the pants he was wearing which covered his whole muscle-bound legs and ended in stirrups that left most of his feet exposed. He was pretty sure Banner had designed them and not Stark. These were solid charcoal gray, no flare or distinction to the design yet, so they were prototypes. Definitely Banner. A peace offering? “I’m sorry about Betty. We tried.”

“It’s okay. I talked to Bruce about it. I understand.”

“It’s really not okay, but we keep moving forward, I guess.” He sat down carefully on the gazebo steps in the shade. “So, where do you want to start? You shrinks are big on childhood trauma, but I imagine Banner has you up to speed on that.”

“Somewhat. I do have some purely personal things and a few professional ones to ask first.” Lee sat down beside Hulk on the shaded steps with his notebook and pen in one hand and a StarkMini in the other.

Hulk rubbed at the bridge of his nose, willing the chronic migraine to let up a bit, but that never worked much. Pinching the fleshy muscles between his thumbs and forefingers on each hand seemed to work better. He turned so he could square up and look at Lee. “I guess you’re recording this?”

“No, not without your permission first. Otherwise, I can just take notes if you want, but I do need some kind of record to be fair to you.”

“Go ahead and record me if it helps. I imagine it all ends up in Ross’s hands in the end.”

“No, I’d destroy it first. That I will promise you.” Lee flicked on the StarkMini and positioned it on a small tripod on the railing to get a good focus on his patient. “Thank you. You do go by Hulk, right?”

“I’ve not had another name for a long time, just titles.”

“Really? Like what?” Lee asked with curious enthusiasm.

“Guardian: Bruce gave me that. Tasha and Angry Girl called me Big Guy. I kind of like that one.” Hulk shook his head and smiled as he remembered. “Oh, can’t forget ‘Champion of Sakaar.’ Well, make that _Former_ Champion since I’m retired. I’m sure there are other epithets, but those are the ones I’ll answer to.”

Lee’s eyes had opened a bit wider. Bruce hadn’t been kidding about the Space Gladiator part. “Okay. Back to what I meant to ask, you’re really articulate. Obviously, what I thought I knew about you is pretty wrong.”

“That’s not a question. You were expecting me to be monosyllabic, dumb, movie-Frankenstein Hulk, right?”

“Well . . . I’ve only seen about ten minutes-worth of video footage and maybe a dozen still photographs. It’s not like you’ve given a lot of interviews, man.”

Hulk acknowledged the truth of Lee’s statement with a lopsided smile and a shrug. “Usually, when I’m needed, I’m out hot and fast to do a job. Banner likes to dump me into situations that are fight or flight.” He gestured with first his left and then his right hand. “Hulk smash or Hulk run. Imagine being spit out in the middle of sensory-overload hell with a raging fire consuming you from the inside. I know some Shakespeare, but I have trouble putting a simple noun-verb sentence together under those circumstances, Doctor.”

The psychiatrist nodded in appreciation, “Understandable. Yet, you’re able to think and speak quite well now.”

“Because of the way Banner reacts and hands off control and because I didn’t say, _NO!_ and refuse to cooperate this time. Even when we’re both agreeable, it still hurts like hell. The pain somewhat eases up over time if I’m out long enough.” He looked around, trying to think of a way to explain it. “I see you have kids. If they go to the doctor for a shot all tense and heels dug in with their muscles clenched and expecting it to hurt really bad, then it does because they expect it to hurt. Then, there’s a self-inflicted bruise from the shot. It’s a negative experience. On the other hand, if they’re relaxed and informed, not fearful, it’s not a big deal.” Hulk gestured by holding out his left hand, “Banner goes in expecting the worst case even when he wants me to take the wheel. Fear and pain from him always make my existence out here more difficult.” Hulk held out his right hand, “Today, Banner wanted me here and able to talk to you, so you get the articulate, slightly irritated version of me. We’ll have to work up to witty and charming.”

Samson chuckled and nodded. He was amazed how similar the tone and body language were to the physicist’s own. “No doubt you’ve tried to tell him this, right?”

“I’d have to be able to communicate, and he burned down or blocked up those means from the accident onward. I have only blocked him when I said, NO. That’s the nuclear option and my only way to get his attention. Otherwise, it’s all his to control. If he wanted to talk to me right now, he could. All he’s got to do is open the door from his side.”

Lee looked a little stunned. “I’m pretty sure Bruce doesn’t know this.”

“Great, I guess this is how you earn the big bucks, Dr. Samson.”

“Now I see why he mentioned wishing Ms. Maximoff was an option.”

Hulk let out a huff of breath, “Just as well she’s not.” He remembered what Wanda could do all too well. “Nothing personal, but getting jerked around by Banner is punishment enough. I’m not letting her in my head again.”

“You do get information from Bruce though. From what you’ve said, it’s apparent you’re at least on the receiving end.”

“Most of the time, it’s like listening or watching through a keyhole, and it filters through to me whether I want to know or feel something or not. Sometimes, when he’s less guarded and more open, I don’t have any alternative except to take everything in. Other times, I have to go looking for it.”

“You remember a time before the accident here at Culver?”

“I remember our mother, probably as well as Bruce.”

Somehow, that revelation didn’t shock Lee. “So, what do you think your relationship is to Bruce?”

Hulk ran his hands through his hair and down the back of his neck, not sure what to say. “I don’t know. Brothers? Rivals? Host and parasite? Twins not separated at birth? Broken vessel and fragment? It just is what it is. You tell me, Doctor.”

Lee glanced out at the flower beds as he thought. “A grafted rose bush with two branches of different colored blooms.”

“It’s a good metaphor. I could see that.” It was close to his own childhood notion of two plants growing in one pot.

“Seriously though, I think we can rule out that Bruce is a parasite, right?” They both laughed at that. “I do want to tell you Bruce brought up chimerism, which is something he’s kind of kept to himself, but it might be where you started. He says he’s sort of ‘dithered around’ with studying it. Now, this is purely my speculation, but I think he’s hesitated to pursue this because if it confirms you’re an actual biological twin, he’ll have to deal with how he’s treated you and what your relationship should really be.”

“Then, if I’m not, I’m a monster and I deserve it? No, I’m not sure I like the implications of that kind of logic, Doctor.”

“No-no, if you’re a part of him, you are _him_ and HE deserves it because he feels he’s monstrous. Bruce does a lot of self-punishing. If you’re separate, which I suspect you are psychologically if not biologically, it’s going to upend everything for him. I won’t say that's altogether a bad thing.”

Hulk hadn’t thought of it that way. “Just like a dog chasing its tail and wondering why it hurts when he bites it.”

“Right, and it gets nowhere. Look, even if you are an alternate personality, I hope we can agree that the current state of affairs with no communication between you two is not ideal for either of you.”

Hulk looked at his hands and nodded. “Tell me, aside from talking, what usually happens if this situation lands in your field, and I’m just another aspect of him that he can’t deal with?”

“I’m beginning to think that you’re a co-main personality and not an alternate one that his mind has created solely to handle trauma. Dissociation or creating alters is a coping mechanism for traumas. It’s not terribly common, especially in males, but it does happen.”

“Well, we certainly have enough trauma from maybe two or three years old onward,” he admitted.

“Some people fragment and create new alters for every stressful situation or incident of abuse. Their function is to protect the main and sometimes other alters, too, from having to experience or process those painful memories.”

“Yeah, I do that, and after the accident, I’ve become the physical protector as well.” That was the dimension that made them completely unique. _To protect and to serve_ , he thought a little bitterly. He did it, but he’d never had much of a choice. _Fight or flight. Hulk smash. Hulk run. Hulk had fucking had enough_. “Yah, I’m the Giving Tree, alright.”

“Shel Silverstein. Point well made,” Lee admitted and went on. “Once we’ve figured out how to establish communication between you, sharing those sequestered experiences is the beginning of the integration process. If you’re an alter, that could mean reuniting with the main personality, but I’m not sure how that would work with two mains and a body that changes to favor one or the other.”

Hulk bit the bullet and asked the question he was most concerned about. “What happens to me if I integrate? Am I just gone?” He imagined himself dissolving like he’d been dusted. He didn’t want to die, but he could think of worse ways to go.

“That’s not how people who have gone through integration describe it. Alters share their held traumatic experience, so it can be processed, understood, and put in perspective. They don’t necessarily have to be absorbed or disappear. They’re still there but they no longer function as a protector or keeper of that information because the trauma they kept from the main is disclosed, so the healing process can happen. I’ve heard it described as a soloist stepping back to join the choir as the song continues on. The alter blends back into what’s called a system.”

“Can that happen with two mains? We’ve been at loggerheads for years since the accident gave me access to being out in the world.” He stared at his hands, searching for the right words. “There’s no way to say this without coming off as selfish, but I know I deserve better than just coming out when something big needs beaten on. There’s more to me than just ‘Hulk Smash,’ so why isn’t there more for me than violence?”

“I don’t have an answer, but I agree that’s a problem we must address. Before you even get to integration, we need to end destructive behaviors, like blocking and misusing each other, and start the healing process. Once you two have established stability, _we must get both of you communicating_. Even if that’s all we accomplish over the next few years, it has to happen.”

“You’re preaching to the choir here, Doctor.”

“Good. After that, we’ll work specifically with helping you both share and then integrate those traumatic memories into your life history in order to put it into perspective. To properly process them, you’ll need to understand that the trauma happened in the past and it is done, you don’t need to keep reliving it. Then you’ll evaluate how it affects your life and what it means when there’s no need to hide the information within an alter. It might take years to get through this part as well before we’d even discuss whether or not you want to integrate or maybe arrange your system using a different model.”

“Sounds like we have a lot of work ahead.”

“That’s because you do. Trust me. This will be worth it. They usually describe the process as three phases, but I really see it as a less linear process than that.” He paused and studied his patient. “I haven’t scared you off, have I?”

“No. It actually gives me some hope.”

“Good. Now, I get to hit you with the tedious part. It’s basically homework if you’re able to do it.”

“I can read and write, but I need to be able to concentrate and have the right size equipment.”

“I can help with one of those. Bruce brought in a special StarkPad that’s more suited to your size.” Lee got up and brought out a pad that was four times the size of a normal one. It had a sturdy case with handles on either side and a large enough stylist for him to use. Hulk wondered if the handles were for playing _Mario Kart_ , but when he held it, he understood how much easier it was to grip. Lee showed him how to use his thumbprint to sign in and set up the survey questions. “You’ll probably have plenty of ‘not applicable’ responses in some parts, but this should still be useful.”

“How long do I have?”

“As long as you need. It’s not timed and the kids are staying with my parents for a few days, so you’re welcome to take all the time you need.”

“I think I’d rather just get this over with here and now since I’m through most of the physical annoyances. Is there anything else you want me to do?”

“Again, if you’re feeling up to it, I’d like you to record something for Bruce to introduce yourself to him. It doesn’t have to be long. Just a hello or whatever you want to say. He needs to see you as you really are, so he can adjust his concept of you free of all his misperceptions and prejudices.”

“Okay. Should I talk about my goals or something? I want to keep it positive.”

“You’ve got the right idea. Want me to crack you open a water? Snack?”

“A water would be good, thanks. It does uncomfortable things to Bruce if I eat much, so it’s easier just to feed him later.”

“Got ya. Makes sense.” Lee pulled a large plastic bottle of water out of a blue Igloo cooler and opened it for Hulk who took a careful sip before moving to a comfortable spot on the grass and turning his attention to the multi-choice questions.

It took a good 30 minutes, but he was able to answer the majority and submit it. That left him wondering what message to leave Bruce. Hulk thought for a bit then found an app with a camera icon that looked promising. He relied on some of his absorbed tech knowledge from Bruce to navigate through it and get the camera aimed to film him. _What do you say to an intimate stranger who blames you for derailing his life?_

“Umm, this is a message for Bruce. We’ve never really met that you’d remember it, but Samson wanted me to say hello. Hello!” Hulk waved his fingers and tried to smile, which made him feel suddenly childish and nervous, but he continued on. “Thanks for the modified computer and the new pants. The stirrup things work really well. I like having my feet out. Thanks for finding Samson to work with us. I think he’s a good choice.” Hulk paused for a moment before diving deeper. “Anyway, Lee said I could talk about goals, so I’m going to throw one out there. I . . . I’d like to talk to you. Like regular people. I’ve always wanted to communicate with you, but your end is shut down. That’s why I said, ‘No.’ I know that doesn’t seem to make sense. It’s just really hard to get your attention.” He blew out a breath, trying to find the words. “We share so much. I’m not talking about the accident and what’s come since, but we did use to talk. Not like face-to-face, but I’ve been with you since we were born in Dayton and out in New Mexico. I remember what it was like for you because I was there. If you have gaps in your memories, I can probably help fill them in.” He paused for a moment again. “If you’re having trouble figuring it out, maybe put up a big Dry Erase board somewhere, and we’ll try that ambidextrous trick Mom used to do. My door is never locked if you ever want to open up a more direct connection like we once had. Look inside . . . ”

~o~

Bruce stared at the screen, tilting his head and studying the first really good picture of Hulk up close that he’d seen in several few years. “He looks more like me than I remember from before being off planet. He’s changed.”

“Which reminds me. Have you looked into getting the genetic tests run yet?” Lee asked.

“I was looking for a secure laboratory to do the mapping, but I think I’m going to be setting up my own. I’ve found a property I like, so I’ll finally be getting back to all that research I’ve wanted to do. This will be my first project.” Bruce played the video file over again taking in every detail. “This changes so much of what I thought I knew about him.” He turned to Lee. “You said he’s in serious pain?”

“He described it as chronic pain that gets a little more tolerable the longer he’s out. It’s less intense the more cooperative you are. He didn’t complain about it, but his body language, how he carries himself, the way he reacted to light and sound, makes me think he’s also suffering from sensory overload, specifically auditory and light sensitivity. It might involve tactile issues as well. He’s very stoic about it, but when he’s forced out, he says it’s tough to put two words together.”

“Lee, in his state, I don’t think his . . . I mean, _our_ body is completely stable. If he’s hurting like that, something really is wrong. There’s a lot of mass there shifting back and forth, and I’ve not been able to account for all of it through the conversion of energy from the Gamma radiation. It’s never added up right. I’m fairly certain it’s topping off by somehow tapping into dark matter, but I’ve never been able to really pin down an answer when I’ve studied it before. I should have collected more data. I should have at least tried.” Bruce folded his arms over his stomach and rocked slightly back and forth, self-comforting without registering it.

At the end of the video, Hulk looked down. “I . . . I know I’m a disappointment to you, but I believe you’ll find I have a lot more to offer as a partner than you might think. Like I said, if there are memories you’re missing, I’d like to help put the pieces back together. I’m pretty sure I remember things you don’t.” Hulk paused and pinched the spot between his eyes and the bridge of his nose as he gathered his thoughts before he turned back to the camera. “Sorry, I’ve reached my limit for the moment. I love you and I’ve missed you a lot. Take care, Bruce.”

Bruce took off his glasses and put them beside him on the gazebo’s bench with his street clothing. He held himself, closed his eyes, and rocked some more, trying to process all of the information and implications. How could he have been so far off from the truth? How could he have reached so many wrong conclusions? He covered his mouth with his right hand and continued quietly to try and console himself as he came to grips with the consequences of his actions.

The psychiatrist leaned forward and slipped his patient a box of tissues. “Do you want to talk?”

Bruce took a tissue and blew his nose and wiped his eyes. “Lee, I’ve been really, really wrong about him.” Bruce bit down on his lower lip and took several deep breaths. “Shit. I should have tried to talk to him from the start.” He finally began to shake with sobs.

Lee slid a little closer on the bench and put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, he’s not blaming you. He’s hurt, but he’s still reaching out to you. He’s showing you a way through this.”

Bruce took another tissue and composed himself. “I’ve screwed up with how I’ve dealt with him from day one onward. It really doesn’t matter what he is, I’ve treated him worse than I would an animal. What have I done?”

“Something that’s really human. You were hurt. You lashed out. You made some mistakes, which you had no way of knowing about,” Lee said gently.

“One huge string of them. Then I doubled down.”

“But these you can fix. The bridges aren’t burned,” Lee pointed out.

“How? I’ve done everything to him that I absolutely abhor—I abused him like my father and Ross did me. I’m stuck in this damn death spiral.”

“Then break the cycle,” the psychiatrist urged. “Don’t repeat what you’ve done. Change the script. Talk to him. Get to know him. He’s given you a couple of different suggestions.”

Bruce nodded. “I’m going to make this right.”

~o~

It took almost four months of trial and error, but they slowly began to communicate again. It was tough going at first as they experimented with low tech means of communication such as Hulk had suggested and eventually used more complicated techniques involving self-hypnosis and sensory deprivation.

The first time Bruce stared at the twenty-plus feet of white board across the back wall of his half-gutted future lab space, it had been just over a fortnight after returning from Virginia, and he felt completely ridiculous. He held a black marker in his left hand and a blue one in his right, but he didn’t know where to start.

While in Virginia, he’d recorded a video message for Hulk who’d watched it and recorded his response as soon as he’d been able to muster his language skills and manifest again that afternoon. Unfortunately, it had still taken all of six hours for the turnaround. Even with Lee acting as an intermediary, there was no spontaneous or even simple fix for their isolation, and Bruce knew it was up to him to figure out how to repair the communication link he’d somehow broken.

In his own video, Bruce had spent several minutes apologizing, a continuation of the monologue he’d imagined while in the woods the day before. “I don’t know how I’ll ever make up for the way I’ve treated you, but I promise I will find a way to make things right between us, Hulk. I don’t know how I’ve cut us off from each other, but I want to talk and communicate with you, too. I want to remember you. Tell me what I need to do.”

Bruce found himself watching Hulk’s videos over and over on the trip back. “You asked me how to open the connection, Bruce, but I’m not sure what happened to sever it. I’m certain the accident triggered it, but I’m just as in the dark as you are about the specifics. What I do know is we used to dream together and you would talk to me. Now, it’s feast or famine. I either get more thoughts, images, and emotions from you than I can process, or I have to make a serious effort to sense what you’re experiencing or thinking. It’s not easy and I can’t seem to reverse the flow and give you any input at all. It’s very different from what we once shared. To be honest, I . . . I really miss it.” The more he watched and listened to Hulk, the more acutely Bruce felt something was missing for him, too, and had been gone for a long time. He was a little surprised at how much he wanted it back.

As their time with Samson ran out, they’d agreed to try Hulk’s idea as soon as Bruce could get the whiteboard installed, which ended up being the day after the purchase of the property went through on July 26, 2018. In the meantime, they’d worked out how to record and leave each other videos, but the hours of delay between made conversations difficult—almost like sending code to a rover on Mars, so here Bruce was staring at the board with the markers in his hands and feeling completely intimidated by the expanse of white that covered the back wall. He could envision the whole room filled with equipment and projects, but the blank wall was as daunting to him as a blackhole.

All he could think to do was write, “Hello, this is Bruce,” with his right hand. He stood there looking at the letters for several minutes till his eyes were about to cross, trying to empty his mind and make room for the other guy to respond. Nothing happened. He couldn’t hear or feel anything, not until he closed his eyes for a few moments and then opened them to see “HULK” was written in bold, blocky letters that weren’t like his handwriting.

“Yes!” the scientist blurted out and grinned with relief. Then, Bruce wrote: “You’re really here?” and closed his eyes. He listened to his own heart beat a little faster than normal with excitement and counted to ten before opening his eyes again. He hadn’t even felt Hulk take over, but his patience was rewarded.

“YES. SO THIS IS YOUR LAB? LOOKS LIKE I DECORATED IT.” Bruce laughed. The place was a mess with piles of swept up rubble and exposed framing where inner walls would be.

Bruce quickly wrote his response: “Ha! It will be. Give me a few months. The bamboo wall guys get here tomorrow.”

“LET ME KNOW THE NEXT TIME YOU NEED A WALL TAKEN OUT.”

“I will.”

“I WORK PRETTY CHEAP.”

“You better be insured.”

“BONDED.”

“Lol. You have the inside track.”

“PUNNY BANNER!”

Eventually, they worked up to keyboards as access became more comfortable between them and Hulk got more familiar with the equipment. Initially, he could manage to stay focused and coherent for about a half an hour a day, but he could push that a bit further if they needed. It wasn’t a perfect way to communicate, but they got to know each other and were able to work out a schedule for video sessions with Lee Samson. When the house and lab space were half finished, about the middle of August, out of the blue one evening Hulk asked, “WHAT IS GOING ON WITH NAT? YOU NEVER TALK ABOUT HER AND I KNOW YOU’RE UPSET. PLEASE TELL ME.”

Bruce had been sitting in bed with his laptop open, composing an email to Tony, which he wasn’t going to send till after Tony and Pepper were back from their honeymoon anyway, so he opened up a word-processing document and cut and pasted Hulk’s question from the bottom of his email draft into the blank document. He stared at the words like he’d been staring at the half-written email. Bruce had avoided talking to anyone but Lee about the problems he and Natasha had been having since he came back from Virginia; however, since she had rather publicly refused to even dance with him at the wedding reception the day before, it was now obvious to everyone they were in trouble. He wasn’t sure how the Big Guy would react, but he couldn’t avoid talking about it now. “I’m sorry if my emotions are dumping on you. Nothing is going on, but I guess that’s the point. I don’t know what I did, but she won’t talk to me.”

“IT’S OKAY. THAT DOESN’T SOUND LIKE HER.”

“She’s really busy getting this new expanded group of people together since the Avengers have essentially disbanded.”

“TRUE, BUT SHE ALWAYS MADE TIME FOR YOU BEFORE.”

“I know. This is different. She doesn’t want to do anything but coordinate the group.”

“24-7? SHE HAS TO COME UP FOR AIR?”

“Not even a cup of coffee. I have tried to talk to her almost every day, but it’s done no good. She ignores me or manages to avoid me. So, I moved out the last of my things from the Compound a few days ago. I’m fulltime in the house here on River Run in Bridgewater now.”

“WHAT DID YOU DO? TURN IN YOUR KEY CODE AND MEMBERSHIP CARD?”

“No, I’m available if the team needs me. Nat is the only one living there now except for staff.” Bruce hesitated a moment before he typed, “We kind of had a fight. She doesn’t want to be around me anymore.”

“DID SHE SAY WHY?”

“She thinks I’m too controlling, too needy, and I have too much ‘baggage.’”

Hulk thought the same could be said about Tasha. In his opinion, that was part of the attraction between the two, but he wasn’t going to voice any of that to Banner. He borrowed Bruce’s hands and typed: “YAH, AND YOU DRESS FUNNY. THIS DOES NOT SOUND LIKE HER.”

“But, that’s what she said, so I’m giving her lots of space like she wants. Something happened while we were in Virginia, but I can’t figure out what. Maybe once I have the house and grounds finished, she’ll agree to come out and have a look. Maybe I’ll finally get her to talk. I just can’t seem to get her to leave the Compound for anything.”

“I’M SORRY, BRUCE.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“IF YOU WANT, I COULD TALK TO HER.”

“No, don’t. I don’t want you dragged into this.”

There was a long pause before Hulk’s question appeared. “WHAT AREN’T YOU TELLING ME? AM I THE REAL PROBLEM?”

Damn, he was sharp. Bruce chewed his lower lip, trying to be diplomatic, but truthful. “Just one part of the bigger puzzle. I have no idea what I’ve done to turn her so cold. I came back from Virginia excited about what we’d accomplished. I was ready to show her the place here, and she wanted nothing to do with it. She said I was selfish for wanting to move on and have a life with her. She wasn’t going to be derelict in her duties just because of my needs.”

“HAVE YOU TOLD HER ABOUT WHAT WE’RE DOING, WHAT WE’RE WORKING TOWARD?”

“I’ve tried, but she won’t stay in the same room with me long enough.”

“I’M SORRY.”

“It’s her loss. It really is.”

“IT’S ALL OUR LOSS, BUT YOU AND I NEED TO BE STABLE. THAT HAS TO COME FIRST.”

“I know. You’re right. She has her mission. We have ours.”

Hulk remember back to their conversation on Sakaar. He’d pointed out that Natasha was married to her job. Maybe that was just now sinking in for Banner? He’d honestly thought she’d changed and wanted a life with Banner after the trip back from Wakanda, but now her destructive pattern of self-denial seemed to have reasserted itself and seriously increased. Hulk couldn’t let that happen to Banner, too. They had come too far to let anything derail them. There was too much riding on them finding stability beyond just the two of them. First, he had to get Banner out of this funk. He used Bruce’s hands to type, “THAT REMINDS ME. I DON’T WANT TO PUSH, BUT HOW IS THE PROGRESS ON THE GENETIC TESTING COMING?”

Bruce was relieved to switch over to a more positive subject, which he’d been looking forward to sharing. “Glad you asked, _Bro_.”

“BRO?”

“I have two distinct sets of DNA. Congratulations, we’re fraternal twins.”

“CHIMERISM?”

“Yes. How do you feel about that?”

“NOW YOU SOUND LIKE SAMSON. I FEEL GOOD ABOUT IT. THANK YOU FOR FIGURING IT OUT. HOW DO YOU FEEL?”

“It was a pretty simple and accurate test. I feel like something finally makes sense. I’m ready to move forward if you are. The pool is almost done and the Safe Lab is ready for a trial run tomorrow if you want to try collecting transformation data for analysis. I’m excited to finally know what happens and where the extra mass is coming from.”

“I’M LOOKING FORWARD TO IT TOO. HAVE YOU FOUND QUALLIFIED HELP YET?”

“As in someone not a mole working for Ross this time? Don’t remind me! Gordon is very reliable so far. No complaints. I’m interviewing housekeepers and personal assistants. The neighbors down the road have recommended someone, so I’ll talk to her soon.”

“DON’T TAKE THIS WRONG, BUT YOU CLEARLY NEED HELP WITH THE INTERIOR DECORATING, TOO. HOW LONG BEFORE YOU BRING IN STARK?”

“Not until we know what’s keeping us so physically polarized. If it’s something he can help us with, I’ll ask him. He and Pepper are supposed to come over sometime after they get back from the Honeymoon tour in a few weeks.”

“OKAY, I’LL BE WITH YOU IN THE MORNING, BRO.”

“Night, _Bro_.”

Bruce had been sleeping in one of the smaller rooms while the renovations to the rest of the house and property continued. The accommodations were a little Spartan, but he’d never minded basic amenities as long as a place was secure. He did feel safe and in control there, despite the construction chaos, but that just gave his head more time to worry about other matters. He closed his laptop and climbed under the covers. Luckily, he was tired enough that he didn’t lay there worrying for long before sleep pulled him under.

He dreamed he was walking along the lake shore near the Compound and came up on one of the benches Natasha and he used to share. He was surprised to see it was occupied as he approached. He stopped and nearly reversed course, but the person turned her head and it was Natasha. As she pulled her hoodie back, Bruce saw her hair was once again red and cut well above her shoulders, like the first time they met.

She smiled, “Hey, what took you so long?”

“I’m not sure,” he stammered, unable to believe she was even speaking to him.

“Sit,” she said, patting the bench beside her. He sat down gingerly on the end, worried that she would change her mind. “C’mon, I won’t bite unless you want me to, Bruce,” she teased.

He smiled tentatively and scooted closer to her. To his surprise, she took his right hand. It was warm and familiar. “What’s going on, Nat?”

“You’re worried about something. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“I think I’ve lost you,” he blurted out before he could control it.

“I’m here.” She moved closer and kissed him on the cheek. “It’s been a while since we talked. Tell me what happened with Lee.”

“Lee spoke to Hulk. I’ve been really wrong about him. We’re trying to work out how to communicate like we did before the accident.”

“That’s good news.”

“Right. He said we used to be connected before, but I’ve not figured out how to fix it.”

“You will, Bruce. I know you will,” she told him.

“I’m afraid though.”

“Why?”

“I think we’re headed toward integration. We may become one person. I think we’re both afraid of that.”

“That’s understandable. You’re worried about losing yourself.”

“I know I am. Will I be me anymore? Will I be able to do my work? Will you still know me?”

“Even if you do change, Bruce, I promise we won’t be strangers, not for long. I have faith in both of you.” She smiled a bit mischievously, and then she was simply gone.

He almost cried with frustration. “But what if I’m just imagining both of you to make myself feel better?” Bruce finally groused to himself.

“Then that’s okay, too,” Hulk said. He was sitting on the shore, a little to the side and in front of the bench. He’d been so still he could have been a rock. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I’m sort of always here now, at least when you dream.”

“You saw her?”

“Yah. Don’t ask me what she was because I don’t know,” Hulk admitted.

“You heard what we said?”

“Yes. I’m pretty sure you’re not making me up.” Hulk pulled a foxtail stem from a clump of grass on the bank and chewed the tender end. “It’s okay to be afraid. You’re right, I’m afraid, too. I may be completely gone by the end of our little experiment in anger management and improved mental health.”

“Please don’t say that.” Bruce buried his face in his hands for a moment before rubbing his eyes. “It’s not going to happen that way if I have any control over it. I want you to have a stable body, so you’re not in pain. I’m hoping the readings we’re going to take tomorrow will help identify what’s going on during the transformation process. _I’m going to fix this_.”

Hulk had gotten up and carefully sat down beside Bruce on Natasha’s end of the bench. He lightly rested his hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “I know you will, but what worries me is where do we go from there? After we find out how to make the big green body stable, where does that leave us?”

“It means you will have real control of yourself, and I can rest a lot easier. It means you can have more of a life. We’ll both still have a life.”

“I appreciate that, but it would be at _your_ expense. We’d be working out a custody agreement like a divorced couple.”

“Maybe, but it’s a whole life that we’d share. My point is a shared life is way better than living in fear or pain all the time or getting jerked around and fighting over control. I want to be fair to you.”

“I won’t argue that it’s a real improvement. Hell, this,” Hulk gestured around him, “this is already an improvement to share some head space with you even if you don’t remember much when you wake up.”

“Then what are we complaining about?”

“Look, we’re talking as if our relationship is like a coin: heads or tails, Banner or Hulk. However, we both know that dualistic paradigm may not be how this works out. Like you were just saying, we really could integrate inside as well as outside: body and soul.”

Bruce gave him a resigned look, “I know. You may be right. We might become one individual. I’ll be honest. That scares the hell out of me.”

“That’s why I want to talk about it. We both know what the other fears: I don’t want to disappear and you don’t want to devolve into something . . . ‘less.’ I understand why you’re worried about changing.” He’d hoped if Bruce got to know him, he wouldn’t fear him, but it was way more complicated than that. Gently as he’d tried to address the issue, he thought Bruce still looked horrified at the idea of becoming, well . . . Hulkish. In short, big, green, and dumb. “I know I’m not in your league intellectually, Bro, but most of that is a lack of experience and a formal education. I’m still curious and engaged. I’m teachable. I don’t think I’ll be as much of a liability as you’re imagining. We share the same genes. I wouldn’t dumb you down.”

“I-I never said that. I honestly don’t feel . . .”

Hulk laughed. “Stop, before you say something kind, but not completely true. Don’t forget, I live in your head. It’s okay to admit it. I know what you’re the most invested in, what you prize the most about yourself, Bruce.”

The physicist gave him a guilty look. “I’m sorry.”

“Please remember, there’s more than one kind of intelligence. If it’s one or the other of us, I promise I will not stand in your way, but in turn, I want your promise on this. Don’t waste any more time being afraid and second guessing yourself. Go with your gut once in a while. Be happy with what joys you do have in your life. You do that and I’m on board.”

“You’re asking a ‘glass half empty’ kind of guy to see the glass as half full, but I understand what you’re saying. I do wish I had your joie de vivre and determination.”

“You weren’t always this way, and I remember when you were less fear-driven in making your decisions. Sometimes you really take yourself and your work too seriously because you’re hiding behind it.”

Bruce let that sink in a moment. “Point taken.”

“So, we’re agreed? I will stay out of your science if you lighten up?” Bruce nodded. “Now, I have an ask.”

“Okay, what would you like me to do?”

“I’m just putting this out there for consideration. I like doing the hero schtick. Granted, I really put us in a hole a number of times—not all of it my fault, still, my bad—but Tasha has a point with that whole red-in-the-ledger concept. She understood that about me. I’m good at the hero stuff, and I want to go back to doing it. I miss it.”

 _This from the guy who said, “NO!”?_ Bruce thought to himself, but he realized that wasn’t really fair. He’d used Hulk wanting to be part of the team like a carrot to secure Hulk’s cooperation and good behavior as soon as Natasha had pointed out how much the Other Guy valued it. Yah, he’d treated him like a dog or, at best, a child. They wouldn’t be here having this conversation if Hulk hadn’t dug in and insisted on his rights being recognized. “All right, I miss it, too. The problem is, there really isn’t much of an Avengers anymore.”

“There’s still Nat’s crew and what’s left of S.H.I.E.L.D.,” Hulk offered up.

“Those are two huge cans of worms for different reasons. I don’t think I can ever go back to that fulltime. Not with things the way they are. Circumstances have changed too much.”

Hulk thought for a moment. “Then we could be independent. I saw Rhodey forwarded you the memo that said those asinine Sokovia Accords are as good as suspended. You know there’s still a huge need for help on the ground all over the place. Anything above rescuing kittens from trees to punching stray asteroids. I could do that work! I can be useful. Please, I need a purpose. We can both be useful. I’m tired of sitting here in your head most of the day and the night when I could be doing things.”

This time Bruce chuckled. “Neither of us thinks rescuing kittens is beneath us, Hulk. Consider me in with at least some of the super-heroing.” They both grinned. It hadn’t been that hard of a sell. “Okay, my turn, Big Guy. This is a bit connected but sideways from what we’ve been discussing. At any rate, we need to be open about it.” Bruce swallowed hard, “Things are not good right now with Nat.”

“I try to stay out of these things between you two, but you said as much earlier. I know it’s been hard.”

“I agree with what you said about you and I needing to work our situation out first. After that, I’m hoping things will settle down, and I want to try again with her. I don’t want to shut and lock the door yet if you get what I’m saying?”

“Bro, I won’t object, but at some point, if she’s as messed up as you think and we can’t help her, we’ll have no choice but to keep moving forward, with or without her.” The on-again, off-again thing wasn’t a healthy pattern and Hulk knew some of the recent things Tasha had said wounded Banner to the quick. He suspected some of her more cutting remarks were aimed at him, and Bruce had buried the worst of it. Hulk decided not to go digging for it unless he had to for a definite purpose.

Bruce was looking out over the lake and thinking. “I understand, and that’s fair. Will you be comfortable if she does agree to get back together?”

 _Oh, great! Here it was, hope springing eternal._ “Hey, your business is your business. I’ve kept as far away as possible out of respect for everyone’s privacy from back to even before you were with Betty.”

“But you’re not going to be able to do that if we merge. I’m putting the subject out there for your consideration while there’s still time to think it through.”

Hulk nodded his agreement. Tasha was a beautiful woman, one he admired for her brains and kindness more than anything, but her love had never been for him that he could tell. He’d scared the shit out of her and she overcame it. She had fondness and tolerance for him as a colleague, yes, but nothing more. Hulk didn’t want to spell it out, but he doubted he’d be the one with the problem if they did merge. If there was a combining between Banner and him, the trouble would come from one of the others. Hulk imagined they still had plenty of time to work things out and take it slow. “I suppose I’ll have to mull it over a bit, but that’s what I have plenty of time for right now.”

Bruce smiled up at him and leaned back, finally relaxing a bit. “Good, now you can give me some input on the new suit design. I know you don’t like shirts, but what if it combined natural fibers with nanotech that could continually adjust so it’s not too binding?”

“As long as it doesn’t make my skin crawl and then the fibers disintegrate in weird spots, I’m willing to give it a go. I like the dark gray, but it needs some design accents, some color to distinguish it. I definitely want the stirrups at the foot. If we’re going solo, I think it needs to stand out from the old stuff.”

“I’ll get to work on it. We’ll have a prototype in a few weeks,” Bruce assured him. “I actually love doing things like this.”

“Designing tech upgrades?”

“No, working with you, getting to know you better. I know I lose a lot of the details when I wake up, but the feelings stay and you’ve really helped me get through all this shit. You are the one bright spot. Thank you.”

Hulk almost had to wipe an eye because he’d been waiting so long for that acknowledgement. “You’re welcome, Bro.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to EmilyGrace13 and Autumn_Froste who saw a pretty early version of this part, which I expanded a bunch on my own. Any mess ups are mine, all mine I tell you!
> 
> I'm trying very hard to connect the dots here because we should have had at least seen hints of this on film in Endgame, but we had nothing to give me any guidance. Zip. Nada. Zero. We had a bit from Mark in interviews after Age of Ultron, but that's it. I didn't want to redo what's in Peter David's excellent comics storyline, but it's always had in influence on me (and likely Mark as well). I hope it makes some sense and is at least a little entertaining.   
> I'm attempting to show what Hulk is actually like when he's not tortured and crippled up with chronic pain and sensory overload. It's head canon, but I hope it's one most people can buy into since it's not AU. Mark took the view in Ragnarok that Hulk is simply developmentally delayed because he spends so little time out in the world and in control. I've pushed that a step further by establishing a scientific origin—vanishing/absorbed twin syndrome that results in genetic chimerism (two distinct sets of DNA). If you're really into the science, go read my longer work that's still ongoing, Special Needs, which has plenty of this explained in greater detail. I firmly believe that there is much more to Hulk than what we see on the surface in the MCU, so given the chance, I firmly believe this is the direction they would need to have gone to reconcile the Banner and Hulk we had at the beginning of Endgame with the Smart Hulk we first meet in the diner scene (and the OOC Nat we get there). 
> 
> I've done the best I could here with the lemons we got, folks. I hope it helps some of you. I want to like "Professor Hulk" so much because I love Mark and what he's done with Banner and Hulk in the MCU up to at least Ragnarok, but I burst into tears in the theater with disappointment. I've tried to talk myself back off the ledge ever since. Writing this helps. There is so much to like about Smart Hulk, and it's not Mark or Industrial Light and Magic's fault. It's completely the way he was shoved on us like a discarded toy and then used almost completely as a tool for explaining the plot. A few crappy lines to explain what was supposed to cover a full and well-deserved storyline and actual character development: that's all we got. It still makes me cry to think about what was lost and not delivered. The writers and Russos even admitted they dumped it all on Mark and ILM without writing that missing arc, the lazy, unprofessional bastards. I'm to the point I want to see Maestro as the villain in Avengers 5 just so Mark's talent won't go to waste yet again, and he and Hulk will finally get their due. Blow it all up with a Gamma Bomb! Peter David recently gave them his blessing to use that storyline—Future Imperfect—and put Nat in as the Rick Jones harbinger from that apocalyptic future storyline. I say, DO IT!
> 
> Talk me down, folks! Comments, questions, and commiseration are always welcome! Please give a like, a follow, a kudo, a review, a share, a tweet, and tell your friends to give it a read!
> 
> Btw, we are #1 in Brutasha on WattPad! Way to go!
> 
> Next up: Part 11: Big Love. Yes, we are back in the bedroom. What a difference a nap makes!


	11. Part 11: Big Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We’re back in the present on Monday, October 30, 2023, and in the bedroom at Bruce’s house. While Natasha naps, Bruce finds out there’s a lot of paperwork in her near future, but Natasha has other things on her mind when she wakes. She’s pretty persuasive. Yes, this is a “mature” chapter.

Bruce watched her eyelids flutter as Natasha presumably went into the REM stage of sleep. That was probably good because she needed the deep rest. He hoped Carol and Nick wouldn’t destroy and contaminate everything before he could find out what happened to Nat while she was in stasis. Then, more lab reports had pinged in on his phone with surprisingly good levels for the early toxicology results though a few hormones were running a bit high. He was really more concerned about what she’d been exposed to for so long that might not be immediately evident.

He quietly slipped out of the bed and stretched out his shoulders and loosed up his spine before putting a pair of fresh underwear on and sitting down at his desk in the far corner of the room. He emailed one of the Personnel Officers he still knew at S.H.I.E.L.D. to let her know what had happened and see what Natasha would need to do to get her various accounts and files back opened and her bureaucratic life back. The reply came back very quickly. There were plenty of other people in similar situations, so there were now websites for government services and “identity recovery” offices being set up. Luckily, his contact could help former Agent Romanoff get the process rolling, but she’d have to be the one initiating any action. _Swell_.

Bruce then checked the government page for the official Decimation Death List. The only good news was she hadn’t been added, so her social security number was probably still active. She’d have to decide if she wanted to report the kidnapping as identity fraud. Obviously, the paperwork was going to take some time to navigate.

He thought about all the confusion just in Bridgewater and wondered if it would be easier to set up new accounts than resurrect the old ones for her. He’d kept Robert Bruce Banner’s identity intact though it wasn’t strictly accurate anymore. Physically, his fingerprints, retinas, voice, skin tone, weight, height, and sizes had all changed. When Banner and Hulk came together into Bruce, they had all changed inside as well, but that wasn’t reflected in his official records. Bureaucratically, his life would have changed more if he’d been trans or just decided to change his name, so he wasn’t about to complain. Luckily, the local DMV had taken it all in stride when he had his driver’s license renewed the first time. He’d quickly learned a smile and friendly enthusiasm smoothed over a lot of potential road bumps.

Bruce picked through his wallet for the information on one of his small local accounts and added Natasha’s name onto it via the local branch bank online, so she’d have that resource to draw on till hers were set up. Then it hit him, Nat might not want him doing this, so he stopped after he’d set up the basics for the account. Natasha would have to confirm it with her social security number and other information in person anyway. She might want to do her own email and phone service for the burner Clint had given her, too. He wanted to do more, but he made himself stop.

Over the last few years, Bruce had noticed this type of compulsiveness on his part was something he had to be careful about since the merger. He’d double dipped on an obsessive streak for guarding and caregiving from both personalities, and that triggered some anal-retentive tendencies to try and fix everything possible. The savior and the martyr roles were also deeply ingrained in him. Banner and Hulk had never been that far apart in those respects. They had embraced and accepted their shadows. Now, he was all of them, and he’d found balance and peace of mind. He hoped now he’d finally lucked into happiness with Nat again.

Bruce thought about the school projects and individuals he’d work with over the last few years. He had to be careful and let others do their own problem solving sometimes and work toward sustainability so programs would last after he’d helped get them going with some well-placed resources or a little media promotion or networking to get them connected to others. Tony had called him an old hen more than once, but he had a solid track record as a mentor and benefactor, especially on the education projects. Bruce was really proud of the local people who’d completed training programs or gone to college and now graduate school in a couple of cases. Yah, Stark was one to talk, considering all the support he’d given to STEM graduate projects alone.

Bruce nearly jumped when Natasha put her hand on his shoulder. She’d pulled on his old blue plaid checked shirt she’d claimed earlier. Her platinum blond hair was a little tousled and he noticed her auburn roots were showing like a touch of phoenix flame. He was happy to notice some of her spark seemed to have rekindled, too. Bruce thought she looked gorgeous, especially when Friday automatically brought more natural light back into the room. He wanted to hold her close and protect her, but he was just as concerned about smothering her.

She stepped in close and rubbed the back of his neck. “I recognize that guilty, conflicted look. What’s up?”

“I was checking to see what you’d need to do to get the official back-from-oblivion paperwork started, and then I put your name on one of my bank accounts without asking you first. Sorry. I get on these jags where I try to fix everything.” He took off his glasses and smiled at her apologetically.

She chuckled, “Remind me to hit you up when Girl Scout cookies go on sale.”

“I have a freezer full,” he admitted. “I don’t do ‘No,’ so well. Not for a while anyway.”

She slipped her arm around his bare shoulder and gave him a hug and a kiss on his temple. “Hate to tell you, but you’ve hardly ever said, ‘No,’ to a friend or a box of Thin Mints.” She well knew Uncle Bruce used to be one of Lila Barton’s best customers. “So how much can I take you for, Doc?” she joked as she looked over his shoulder.

“A lousy ten grand in that little cookie jar unless you open up a line of credit. Then the sky’s the limit, Babe,” he drawled in a bad James Cagney impersonation. She rolled her eyes. “I’m not worth as much as Tony, but I can support you in the manner to which you’re accustom, Ms. Romanoff.” This time she giggled. He could have bought her anything she wanted, including an island or two, and possibly a planet if Rocket wasn’t scamming him for fun. “You have to be feeling better, right? Geeze, I’ve missed that smile, Nat. I’ve missed your voice.”

“Ditto!” She stretched her arms above her head and rolled up on the balls of her toes. “Yes! Surprisingly, a three-hour nap helped.” She closed his laptop, and he pushed his chair back from the desk and extended his bare muscular legs. Nat smiled when she saw he still preferred blue cotton boxers.

“You’re not angry with me, are you? I’m a little more compulsive than I once was,” he admitted.

“If it means you’re a little more spontaneous, I don’t see a problem with it.” She played with his hair, thinking it was one physical thing that hadn’t changed except for a little more gray like he’d brought back from Sakaar, but she missed his curls from years ago. Maybe he’d grow it out again if she asked.

Bruce almost shivered with excitement at her touch, he liked the feel of her hands on him so much. “I’m . . . I don’t want to take away your autonomy. I did that to Hulk for years, so I have to be careful about it creeping into relationships.” The fake Natasha had also accused him of doing it to her, so Bruce was admittedly sensitive about the issue. His default was to step back because he’d become more deliberative and weighed his options with care now that he had breathing space and a clear head. He knew how intimidating he could be without saying a thing since he literally was the Hulk in the room.

Nat chuckled, sounding more and more like her old self. “Banner, I’d like to see you try.” She moved his computer well to the side and sat down on his lap, and he leaned back a bit more in his chair, shifting to accommodate her. They were still both studying each other, taking in changes and adjusting. It occurred to her his skin really wasn’t a uniform shade of light green at all. Natasha ran her hands over his abdominals and up his ribs to his chest and shoulders to the scars he’d earned in vain while trying to bring her back. As rough as his right arm and shoulder looked, they were apparently a big improvement. He didn’t flinch when she explored the scars, but he studied her face intently for her reactions. Nat realized that even after all the Skrull had put him through and the pain it had caused, Bruce had still loved her that much anyway. He’d never given up hope in them finding their way back to each other.

She leaned over him, staring into his warm brown eyes for a moment, and then closed her eyes and kissed him on the lips. They were the same mix of softness and firm intent she remembered. This time, he quickly responded with sincere ardor, returning her kisses generously as he moved his caressing hands to her shapely backside. She could still taste a little of herself on his lips, and it spurred her on. Leaning in, Natasha flattened her body against his and ground her hips into him, and he groaned, bracing his shoulders against the reinforced chairback as he arched his back, pressing his hips into her. She pulled back a moment, “I’m willing to give this a try. How about you?”

“I don’t want to hurt you, Nat. We don’t have to, you know? I am an adult, so I can get around the limitations of . . .”

Nat put an index finger on his lips. “Shhh, let me tell you a little secret: it’s mostly a matter of getting good and warmed up,” she assured him. “I want you like I’ve had you before. There’s no reason we can’t reinvent what we had. I want that physical intimacy with you again.”

He smiled suggestively, “I think I can help you with that.” He held her close in his arms and rocked forward to get up out of the chair, carrying her to the bed. Not for the first or last time, she noted how much more at ease he seemed and how confidently he moved. The nervous, edgy awkwardness was either dialed back or just gone. Perhaps now that his size didn’t fluctuate, he was better able to attune his perceptions with his body?

“Not so fast,” Natasha said as he set her down on the edge of the bed. She guided him so he was standing right in front of her. Nat rubbed her face against his crotch, feeling him noticeably stiffen under the cotton fabric. She breathed him in. He smelled mostly the same: a milky caramel and salt scent with just enough musk, but now there was a little bitterness like green matcha beneath the rest. She kissed his stomach and tugged his briefs down slowly a little at a time, kissing and licking as she descended. He was solid and muscular without being vein-poppingly so. The trailing hairline was the same from his chest south and a freckle or two she remembered well hadn’t changed. This was still the body she’d known, just buffer, greener, denser, and more of it. Roughly two feet and at least 700 pounds more of it. Still, not that far from the upper end of normal limits.

Natasha looked up and smiled mischievously as she palmed him with her right hand from beneath, and he sighed, finally giving himself over and moving with her touch. “You’re quite the handful, Doc.” He answered Nat with her favorite lopsided smile, one that both sides of him had always shared. That little bit of guilt and worry he always had was still there, too, just slightly shifted now to focus on his size and concerns for her. She was going to do her best to get him to let that go. “Trust me, Bruce.”

“I do, Nat.” He thought that was pretty obvious considering what she was doing to him at that moment. “Oh, that feels so nice,” Bruce told her with a sigh as she nibbled at him through the cotton fabric. “Babe, I’ve missed you.”

Since the accident, making love had always carried the possible threat that he might Hulk out and lose control. That danger and other things had unraveled his relationship with Betty. It had taken years to minimize the risks once his pulse rate and any adrenaline spikes were under control, and then he’d negated them as the transformation’s triggers. Unfortunately, living on the angry edge had been miserable for both Banner and Hulk. By the time he and Natasha were physically intimate after he’d returned from Sakaar, accidental transformations were even less of a concern since Hulk was absent from the equation. They only had just a little over a handful of weeks together after the world went to hell, but it had been good, and he’d clung to his memory of what they shared—what he doggedly still felt they shared—and what they’d planned to have together through those bleak years of rejection.

From Natasha’s perspective, what she’d come back to was a 90-degree shift from his condition since she’d left. She’d never thought of Hulk as a monster once they were past their first encounter, but she instinctively knew he wasn’t Bruce either. She also knew something eventually had to happen between them, which was why she’d worked so hard to be the buffer between the two. When she’d said good-bye to Bruce that morning roughly five years earlier, Natasha expected him to return, and she’d be supporting him as he and Hulk found a healthier middle ground. Yet, she could never have predicted the metamorphosis she’d awoken to find had happened without her. Hulk wasn’t a ominous presence hidden or lurking or threatening, he was already there merged seamlessly with Bruce. On the plus side, now there was nothing catastrophic to fear from him. On the other, Natasha wasn’t sure how the inner relationship worked with them melded together now. Intimacy-wise, she thought the emotional elements might be a bigger challenge than the physical ones.

“I hope you still like most of the same things we’ve done before. You’ll have to let me know if anything different turns you on or off now,” she requested. He’d been pretty amazing, so she hoped there weren’t too many changes.

He grinned, almost reading her mind as she continued her ministrations on his fast-swelling cock. “Just to be clear, all of me loves and desires you, Natasha. I have no internal conflicts where you’re concerned.” In fact, they’d both agreed they wanted her rather desperately and had from the beginning in some hopeless way without expecting there’d ever be a fruition. He tenderly stroked her face with his right index finger, glad that the nerves were repairing and he could feel how soft her skin and hair were.

“Good, we’re on the same page, Lover.” She slipped his waistband below the curve of his magnificent thick glutes and then down his muscular thighs as his erect penis came free of the constraining fabric and asserted itself. “Wow, nicely proportioned!”

“Well, everything matches,” he said with a humorous shrug.

She certainly hoped he’d forgotten that damned zucchini joke of Tony’s, but somehow, she doubted it. “I love that you still blush under the green.” She leaned forward and kissed the base of his veined jade shaft and playfully licked her way up its length while Bruce closed his eyes and let out a sighing groan of pleasure.

Oh, those playful lips and tongue of hers! “That feels so good, but shouldn’t I be paying some attention to you, Nat?”

“First things first. Keep in mind, getting you warmed up gets me revved up, too, Big Guy.” She enjoyed touching him, feeling the soft flesh give way to swollen engorgement that pulsed and quivered with desire in her hands. His milky caramel and salt smell had her almost squirming.

“Please let me help you out with that,” he pulled open a drawer in the nightstand, which held a variety of supplies. He handed her an almost new tube of lubricant, but he kept looking for something. “Aww, shit. Condoms. I haven’t kept any of those around since I first moved here. Damn, I’ll need to do a custom order.”

“You’re not putting off radiation anymore, right?” Nat asked.

“No, it’s well sequestered now unless I need to utilize the energy.”

“So, what are you worried about then? We’re both sterile. You’re not going to poison me or create a toxic biohazard.”

Bruce looked pensive for a moment and then he laughed. “You know, you’re absolutely right,” he said with a relieved chuckle. “I guess that emotional rut is carved so deep I just fell right into it.”

“Silly physicist forgets he has a biology degree, too?” she teased.

“Tis I, the 900-pound worrywart. Sorry, I couldn’t completely edit that characteristic out or I would.”

“Seriously, you tried to do that? Edit your personality?”

“I’m kidding. I mean, there are some proclivities that run in clusters with physical traits, but I’m overstating it. I . . . are you sure you’re even interested in this?” The other Natasha said she was not just disinterested but disgusted by it, so he felt compelled to ask her first.

“If it has to do with you, _yes_ , I’m interested. Make that intensely interested in anything you’re willing to share with me, Bruce.” That really was the honest truth because she wanted to know all that she could.

A relieved sigh came out of him before he realized he’d been holding his breath. “Okay, we can talk about it sometime later then and I’ll bore your socks off. Thank you.”

“They’re already on the floor, and I’m far from bored. Come here now.” She stood up on the bed, so they were eye to eye with her hazel-green ones full of sensual playfulness. “I’m looking forward to learning everything new about you and discovering all I can with you. I have five years to make up for. Just the kiss deficit alone is staggering. Our new intimacy starts here, Doc. Now, get in the middle of the bed.”

“I’d like to make a down payment and kiss you first . . . if you’re willing, of course.” She threw her arms around his massive neck, and he held her to his chest, stroking her back as their lips melded together. He maneuvered them so they smoothly twisted without stressing his injured arm, and with feline-like fluidity, he stretched out on the bed with her on top and him on his broad back in the middle.

“Well, well, that’s an awfully smooth move for you, Dr. Banner,” she said as she sat up straddling him. “I have yet to see you do anything klutzy today.”

“The day is young,” he said with a shrug. “Maybe I’m less distracted than I used to be? Less to worry about? Fewer calculations to avoid destruction?” This was all true, and after years of pain and sensory issues, he’d spent the last three feeling comfortably at home in his stabilized and innately powerful green body.

“Maybe,” she said with somewhat narrowed eyes, but it wasn’t all that much of a mystery. “I will get every detail out of you eventually about how it all works. You were always a good dancer and one hell of a lover, but you’ve taken more headers and banged every door frame I’ve seen you go through up till today.”

“I still do that, but now I win,” he said with a playful grin.

“I’ll bet you do!”

“That’s also why I like the mostly open floor plans and higher ceilings here. I don’t have to bang my head either.”

“Smart. I hope the bed’s as well thought out.” She’d be shocked if it wasn’t.

“Tony and I designed it and he welded the frame. Before you ask, the floor beneath the wood and subflooring is reinforced concrete with nanotube fibers. Any other questions, Inspector Romanoff?”

“I’m sure I’ll think of more before long.” She’d retrieved the lube and a box of tissues from the night stand. Natasha warmed some clear gel up in her right hand before wrapping her fingers around his thick, hard shaft and easing her hand up and down his length. He was sizeable, just like in his former body form, but that just made her all the more eager to work with him. “So, been taking matters into your own hands in my absence?”

“Yes, when I needed to find some relief. Keeps things a lot simpler.”

“No ‘Hulkies’?” she teased.

He snorted, “Aside from being assaulted by thirst tweets? No, no Hulkies or anyone else. There have been plenty of offers, but you know I’m not that kind of guy.” He’d never slept around casually, especially after they’d merged, but there had been some very persistent people aside from the woman waiting in the HX. Bruce still wasn’t comfortable with being hit on almost daily if he was out in public. The catcalls he somewhat expected. He’d dealt with those even before Sakaar then after he returned when people started to recognize him and feel less fearful about Hulk.

Now, he occasionally did get treated like a side of beefcake, especially by tabloids and a certain part of the population, mostly younger and mostly female. Bruce hadn’t asked for notoriety or any of the attention unless he was promoting worthy causes or doing PSAs, but he got questioned about dating almost every time a mic was shoved in his face since he’d merged and taken on a more solo public role. It definitely wasn’t far from the pro-wrestling gladiator vibe like on Sakaar. He’d learned to smile charmingly and say, “No comment,” since he’d learned, “Hulk smash!” could quickly get him into trouble. The young woman in the HX had said, “Smash this,” and he’d not stuck around to ask what.

The truth was he’d been way too traumatized by the fake’s reactions to him and then too busy to consider that sort of “moving on” at any point after that. In fact, it hadn’t been two weeks since he’d thought he’d lost Natasha for good. He probably would not have stayed celibate forever, but he’d been in a perpetual state of mourning since he’d had the big fight with the fake Natasha and then not returned to the compound for roughly two years before the Time Heist.

“Do you have Hulk’s memories now, too?” Natasha asked and nudged him back into reality.

“Yes, I do, and you could say he has Banner’s as well,” he teased. “I suppose it’s fair to say you’re sort of dealing with a half a virgin. Think you can handle that?” The look he gave her was flirty, and definitely all Hulk, but there was sincerity in it, too.

Natasha could give as good as she got from either of them. “No action on Sakaar either? Now, I really am revved up. You should have said something before if you really wanted ‘deflowering.’”

“Well, people make assumptions, so who am I to burst their bubble?” he teased back.

“So, I get to pop your cherry?” she asked archly, running a fingernail down the valley between his pecs so the muscles rippled with a shiver.

He flexed them again for her when he saw she liked him doing it. “Technically, half a cherry, but it is a pretty ripe one.”

“Then let’s get on with it, Big Guy. Let me see that hand.” He started to offer his left hand and she shook her head. “I want the one you sacrificed for half the universe and for me.” She took his damaged right hand and touched the silvery scars where the Infinity Stones had burned into his skin. She then held it palm up in her left. The flat of his hand looked almost untouched while the fingers and the skin up past his wrist was close to normal. From the forearm to his collarbone, the skin was half a shade darker and had a bit of a scar-tissue shine. She was looking forward to getting to work on rebuilding the muscles there the old fashion way. He would be able to keep up with her training now, she thought ruefully. “Do you remember this?” She used the fingers of her right hand to trace from his damaged inner forearm down to the pulse point on his wrist and then his palm.

“Yes, it’s ours. _Just ours_ ,” he murmured quietly in a low voice as his gaze locked on hers. They could both feel the connection they’d forged was still there. He let go of his Hulkish fears about crossing a line that had kept her safe and on a pedestal: the object of his worship and repressed desires. He felt unmasked, suddenly more naked and vulnerable now than his physical body or Banner’s had ever been. Not only did both parts of him know the aching truth now, so did she. His heart, his vulnerabilities, his desires were in her hands.

On some level, she’d known since Hulk had first whispered, “Sorry,” in that deep, resonant voice of his after the Battle of New York before he’d diminished into Banner. They’d built on that mutual bonding over regret and eventually worked out the Lullaby, despite all of Banner’s misgivings and initial objections.

Now, Natasha smiled without trepidation or fear because the protective layers were gone, and there was only love and acceptance for him as he stared defenselessly into her hazel-green eyes. “I’ve missed you. Now, we’ll have more that’s all of ours.” She kissed his wrist and palm and his fingers; then, she took his index finger and licked it before guiding it past her lips. She took in his middle and forefinger and sucked as he gently moved them in and out of her mouth for a few moments. Natasha shifted and took off the shirt she’d claimed and tossed it out of the way. She guided his hand to her mons, and he palmed her. “Firm pressure is good. Use your middle finger first.” He quickly discovered she was already wet, which he found both exciting and reassuring—she really did want to be intimate with him! He followed her instructions, circling her clit slowing before inserting his finger, and she half purred, half moaned in response as he caressed her.

He fell back on shared memories and remembered how to cup her pubic bone just right and she squirmed with pleasure at his touch. “Oh, that’s it!” With care, he slipped the second finger in, too, and penetrated her deeper, gradually widening his fingers’ spread as she accommodated them. “Good, you’ve got the idea.” She squeezed her breasts as he watched her, and Bruce thought of the things he wanted to do for and to her. He was done with being just a passive voyeur, reigning himself in. Now, he’d truly be her lover.

With his left hand he reached down and stroked himself, making sure his hard cock was good and slick for her. She leaned back and he removed his fingers, so she could reposition herself over his eager rod. She was riding him on top, so she’d have as much control as possible. He could feel a thrumming pulse going through him as he rubbed the sensitive head of his member against her wet opening. “Tell me what to do, Tasha.”

She reminded herself that he wasn’t physically that much bigger than some professional athletes and this was still someone—two someones—she’d loved for over ten years in a number of ways. “Hold my hands and tuck your elbows in close to your ribs,” she explained. They’d tried the position before with Banner, so he knew what she meant. The mechanics were obviously a little different now, but it was a good choice because she could put her weight on her arms and legs while controlling his penetration. Once she was comfortable, she eased onto him slowly. Between her state of arousal and the lube, she was able to take most of him in slowly without discomfort. Once the dark green head pushed inside, the rest slid smoothly into place and he filled her completely. “Oooh, Bruce!” It felt different, but it felt good.

“Are you okay?” The warm, soft sensation of her walls wrapped around his shaft had him intensely focused. She was so slick and tight, but not too tight for him. Words couldn’t describe how wonderful and comforted it made all of him feel. It was new and yet familiar. The weight of her body pressed against his was exciting to him, too. He wanted to thrust, but didn’t dare till she was ready and said it was safe.

As she adjusted to the full sensation, Natasha relaxed a bit, and it began to feel quite enjoyable. “Yes, this is good. Let’s keep going.” She started moving up and down on his shaft, angling forward a bit till she found the best position and then rhythm. “Okay, if you’re ready, move with me,” she said breathily. Bruce brought his knees up for support and rocked his pelvis to match her. His thrusts were firm, but he was careful not to jar her. “Don’t you dare try to get me to come first, Banner,” she warned.

“Why not? You’re doing all the work.” It only seemed fair and it was a pretty deep kink for him.

“Nope. Your turn,” she insisted. At some point they were going to talk about his chivalrous attitude, but that would save for later.

“Okay, but I want to touch you. The skin-to-skin contact is really important. I love touching you, and I’ve felt starved for you all this time.” He brought her right hand to his mouth and kissed it and let it go, so she could reposition it on his shoulder. Bruce ran the backs his undamaged fingers through her hair. He reached under her arm and settled the palm of his hand on her right breast and gently squeezed and manipulated her flesh where she’d lost some of her weight while in stasis. She sighed and he moved his attentions to her left side, feeling her areola tighten and the nipple become erect against his palm. Bruce took her hand again and leaned forward and kissed her right shoulder and licked along her collarbone to her neck. He’d marked her there before, but he hesitated, settling for kissing lower to her chest and playing with her right breast with his tongue.

“Oh, you’re such a mama’s boy through and through,” she chided him. Bruce used his lips and tongue to make her squirm with pleasure as he sucked and marked her above her right breast. He switched breasts to her left one and started pleasuring her all over again. “You’re making this difficult on purpose,” she accused as she kept up her movements.

“Sorry,” he said with a look that was anything but. She knew he appreciated every part of her. Bruce quit distracting her with his mouth, but he kept running his hands tenderly and meticulously over her from her shoulders and arms, down her back and thighs to her feet. “I’ve lain here awake so many nights wanting you, Nat.”

“We’ll make up for it,” she assured him and bore down on him, quickening her hip thrusts onto his firm jade tool. They were recognizing each other’s rhythms and subtle signals again. She’d been afraid that connection was gone, but they were finding it with little sparks and jolts and their tension grew toward mutual climax.

He could feel himself tighten from his balls to almost his navel, and the pressure that had been building up began to top off quickly as she rode him harder. The sight of her intensity above him made him think of every sensual thing he’d imagined doing with her for so long. It came at him like the heady rush he’d experienced as the half universe worth of lives returned to existence when he bent the Stones to do his will. There had been a seductive chorus of ethereal voices echoing the Mind Stone’s initial contact when he’d picked up Loki’s Staff so many years before. Back then, it had pushed Banner to lose control, but this time he’d been prepared to meet and master all of them head on. Natasha had paid for the cursed orange gem with her life, so he was there to collect for all that she’d paid. If fighting was necessary, he’d claw back every soul he could . . . including hers.

To his surprise, the stones had been eager to act. He quickly perceived intent and focus were the key, but they all sang that they expected him to pay a price. Bruce gathered and held their vast power back while groping for a way to defy the Soul Stone and find her. He’d pushed hard, wanting to bring her back yet failing before he at last snapped his fingers in resignation. He was certain he’d seen her in that moment like a sleeping queen, waiting for him, but then she’d been swept away in a flooding cascade of souls flying by. Was she really gone or had she opened her eyes and reached for him?

Briefly, Bruce felt echoes of that powerful life energy surge through him now as she rode him, but this time the euphoria wasn’t tinged with the sadness of failing her. Bruce sensed the possibilities for a future with her were once again almost endless. He hadn’t lost her and the Stones laughed at their joke on him, the fortunate fool after all. His damaged hand prickled for a brief instant.

“Take me, Nat! Almost there . . .” Bruce felt himself crest the edge, hanging there for those few brief focused moments, and then his core seemed to explode in a delicious spasm of release inside her. “Aahh! Tasha! My Natasha!” he groaned. The sense of joy and connectedness he remembered was indescribably strong. His whole world came back into perspective, and it all made sense for a few moments. _Come back to me!_ “I love you, Nat. I’ll never leave you,” he swore. _This was the only way._

Bruce rolled his hips to grind against her. He deftly applied his left thumb to her nub to give her one more circular tease of pressure, and she tightened up with her own spasm. A few more bucking thrusts and she was there with that quivering release of her own. He touched her again and a jolt of intense pleasure made her gasp.

“Oh, shit! Yes! I love you! Oh, Bruce.” He absolutely adored how she glowed as he supported her torso with his strong, steady hands. Nat caught her breath. “No more trading up bodies, Banner. I’m at my limit.” He laughed, setting off a tiny echo of ripples from her. “I’m not kidding, we’re riding this relationship until the wheels come off, okay?” Bruce grinned up at her with her halo of tousled blond hair as her skin flushed pink underneath his hands. She smiled triumphantly and let him ease her collapse onto his torso.

Before long, Bruce could feel himself diminish and pull out of her. She cuddled and climbed a little higher on his chest so she could see his face better. “How did I ever get this lucky?” he asked.

Nat grinned down at him. “Musta done something right, Doc.” She stretched on top of him, matching his contours. “By the way, that’s a whole cherry’s worth in my book,” she kidded as they lay there satiated and relaxed. For a first time, it was especially good she decided. It was easily on par with what they’d had before, despite the physical challenges, she mused while playing with his dark chest hair. She’d certainly be sore, but damn, it had been worth it!

Bruce shifted and brought up his left arm to prop up his head. “Wow, so that’s sex,” he said, quirking an eyebrow. He’d felt it in a completely different way with his whole being now instead of just secondhand echoes through Banner’s half of him. “Totally worth the wait,” he sighed contentedly, floating along on a swell of endorphins as he stroked her backside with his injured hand. He could feel the scars were putting off some heat, but he barely noticed since it wasn’t uncomfortable.

“So, you weren’t kidding then?” she asked. “As Hulk, you never were intimate with anyone before now?”

Bruce shook his head. “The Hulk part of me? No, never as Hulk. Just Banner, and before you ask, neither half was a real peeping Tom. We were both pretty private in that respect. Until our memories integrated, we only shared vague impressions.”

Truthfully, Natasha was relieved Hulk hadn’t been a silent partner or a captive third party while she and Banner were together after the Snap, but that made her more curious about Hulk’s perspective. “Let me get this straight, no sex. Not even on Sakaar? I would have thought you’d have been the center of attention there, Hot Stuff,” she teased him.

“I was. I just wasn’t that interested in sex as a recreational activity with someone who was enslaved. I wanted something real, like this.” He leaned forward and touched his forehead gently to hers, and they cuddled. “I wanted love . . . the whole package with you, Tasha. I just never thought it was going to be possible.” Hulk had carried that torch for her longer than he was willing to admit to anyone—himself included—until both Banner’s and his memories had integrated and there was no way to deny it. They’d both loved her. They’d both lost her. Now, they were all together safe and whole.

As they lay there together sharing the afterglow, Bruce realized he wanted to have a home and a family with her, too, but he’d wait for her to bring that up. He didn’t want to rush and get ahead of things. There were so many kids who needed a good home, especially because of the Snap and the Return, since not everyone had survived either event—careful as he’d been in crafting his wish with their tech Gauntlet as he focused all that raw power: _To a safe place in the present, bring back every life Thanos took and snapped away._ He’d added _. . . and bring back Natasha safe and whole to me._ Oh, yes, that last part is what had burned him almost to the bone as the Stones gleefully extracted their price and a bit of punishment as well, but he’d had to try it. He couldn’t have lived with himself if he hadn’t. _Safe and Whole_. That’s why they’d laughed at him, paying double the price to undo something that hadn’t really happened while she lay in stasis at the bottom of the lake waiting for him.

Natasha ran her left hand along his injured arm and intertwined their fingers as he responded to her caress. “Even if you aren’t the luckiest, you’re definitely the most determined guy I know, Bruce,” she admitted.

Just another fool who got lucky, he thought. “So, my winning personalities and stubbornness wore you down?”

“Well, that and you trusted me, even after I couldn’t keep my word to you and the times I second guessed you.” The Helicarrier being attacked and even Sokovia seemed like so long ago to him now, but he knew exactly what she was bringing up.

“That’s all water under the bridge and a few drops in a big ocean now. I may be a scientist, but with you I went with my gut and my heart, Natasha. I’ve never regretted that where you’re concerned.” He’d brought his damaged hand up to touch her cheek, and she kissed his fingers before laying her head down on his chest. Bruce stroked her silken blonde hair. He could feel her heart beating and calming down as she relaxed on top of him. As far as he was concerned, his wish for her to come back to him safe and whole had happened whether or not the Stones had a damn thing to do with it. For Bruce, at the moment, that was everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to EmilyGrace13 and Autumn_Froste who again saw an early draft of this part. Any mess ups are purely mine.
> 
> No, we’ll never see anything this explicit in the movies, but that’s what fanfics are for. It’s my head canon that MCU Hulk would still be a virgin, mainly because of being repressed and therefore lacking experience, but definitely not asexual. Probably because of Ruffalo’s performance, I can’t imagine Bruce or Hulk being ace or even “gray ace,” so yes, I see the combined character as pretty darn sexy and confident in his skin. I know that “Professor Hulk” is not everyone’s cup of java, but I think Natasha would have still been just as attracted to him. To say that his size and appearance are a “deal breaker,” seems incredibly shallow, so I wanted to see her pursue him and view any physical challenges as minor elements rather than roadblocks. Since seduction and sensuality are part of her skills set, she’d not have a problem figuring sex out with him. The tougher part would be renegotiating the emotional elements as she pieced together what parts of their emotional landscape must have changed. As happy and confident as he seems, Bruce has taken a ton of damage from someone with her face, so they are both reconciling doubles—old and new, true and false—to find each other.
> 
> A couple of gripes: You do not know the discussion and calculations that went into this and the previous “mature” chapter, but I definitely disagree with Markus and McFeely’s condescending little snipes about Natasha not needing a two-ton boyfriend to complicate her (now mentally unstable) life. Not only are they wrong about Natasha, they didn’t even consult ILM about Bruce/Hulk’s stats. At 7’5”, he’s three inches taller than Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, and weighs between 900-1,200 lbs., around 40-50% heavier than André the Giant because of Hulk’s density. A ton is 2,000 lbs., so even a ballpark guestimate is nowhere near one much less two. Again, laziness, sloppiness, prejudice, and shaming are M&M’s calling cards when it comes to anything related to either Bruce/Hulk or Natasha. Fie upon them!
> 
> On a related note (and I will stop the venting), Joe Russo, that endless fount of trolling BS, wants to come back to the MCU to direct the Fantastic Four because—get this—he and silent Anthony are even BIGGER fanboys of Ben Grimm, THE THING, than they are of Captain America. This actually explains a lot about why they nerfed, undermined, and tried to make a joke of Banner and Hulk consistently over the past two films. My, could this be a case of the grudges of ten-year-olds getting writ large? (I’m imagining wee little Joe making Anthony be Hulk, so Joe could pretend to be the Thing and beat on him.) May karma come home to roost when someone else gets tapped to direct. 
> 
> If you'd like to see the cover edits for each part, check out my Pinterest board. This one includes a shirtless Bruce Hulk edit and a tousled Natasha.
> 
> Comments, questions, and commiseration are always welcome! Please give a like, a follow, a kudo, a review, a share, a tweet, and tell your friends to give it a read!
> 
> Next up: Part 12: Reemergence. If I don’t think of a better title. Natasha takes a look around the place and continues to piece details together.


	12. Part 12: Reemergence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Naps are over! Natasha explores some of the upstairs and discovers a few things that Bruce has to explain. Sirius is a good boy! Nat goes to town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s the early afternoon of Monday, October 30, 2023.

They probably would have slept for a while, but about twenty minutes later, first Bruce’s phone on the desk pinged and then Friday interrupted them. “Excuse me, Dr. Banner and Ms. Romanoff, I need to remind the doctor that Mr. Parker is due to arrive in about an hour. I also need to inform you that your canine companion is awake and doing some damage to a rug in the mudroom.”

“Thank you, Friday,” Bruce responded. “Well, so much for resting. Spider-son and fur baby are on the schedule,” he said with a small sigh. “The dog I was expecting, but Peter has an open invitation and probably just wants to talk. Tony left some things here for him, so he may stay for dinner. Are you feeling up to dealing with them or do you want to rest some more?”

Natasha was actually feeling quite good, energized, even. “Let’s get cleaned up. I want to meet Sirius, and I wouldn’t mind seeing Peter.” She kissed Bruce, and they extricated themselves from the bed.

She hadn’t seen the master bathroom yet, so it was a bit of a surprise to observe the scale of half the plumbing fixtures. There were two sizes of toilets, a bidet, and two vanities at different heights. “Don’t laugh, this was Tony’s suggestion, so I just went with it when Pepper agreed with him. The closet is on the other side. It’s bigger than some of the apartments I’ve lived in.”

“I’ll stick with the bathroom for now,” she said. The walk-in shower was Hulk size, but there was a second set of valves and showerheads at multiple heights. In one corner of the tiled room with another window view was a soaking tub with a beautiful fresco wall along the other side.

“Oh my. That’s beautiful, Bruce. It . . . it moves!” Natasha said with surprise.

“Kinda like Harry Potter photos, huh? A couple of artists from New Asgard came and worked on it and some other spots. Pretty amazing, huh? That’s Yggdrasil, the World Tree, in the middle.”

“I see. Those are the Nine Realms, but it’s different from what you’d normally see. Did you say, ‘New Asgard’?”

“Right, what was left of Thor’s people and the survivors from the _Statesmen_ settled in a small section of Norway. I was able to snap more of them back. Angry Girl, sorry—old habit, Valkyrie is their ruler in Thor’s absence.” Nat looked at Bruce with horror. “No-no, he’s not dead. He left with Rocket, Nebula, and Quill’s crew to find Gamora. It’s kind of involved, but Thor was alive and well ten days ago . . . unless Steve screwed something else up,” Bruce added under his breath as he rolled his eyes. “Sorry, there have been a ton and a half of surprises lately, and not all of them are as wonderful as you, Nat.”

She nodded her head and went back to the mural wall. There were smaller scenes depicted along the sides. “Is that Sakaar?” she asked as she looked at a series of images on the left.

“The idealized Disney version,” he said, feeling a little embarrassed. She was looking at Hulk in full gladiator attire, strutting and working up the crowd.

“Do you still have the leather kilt or helmet?” she asked with mischief in her eye.

“No. Just the memories and lessons learned,” Bruce answered soberly.

Natasha cocked her head to the side and continued to study the arena image. He’d only told her Hulk had been in control for over two years when they’d talked about it before, so she didn’t know many details. “Explain the gladiator motif to me,” she said gently.

“Well, it’s what I did. Hulk smash. I smashed a lot. Professional fighting. I was the Winner of the Contest of Champions and defended the title for over a year.” He wanted to be truthful, but he still had many mixed feelings about Sakaar.

“Lessons learned?” she prompted.

“I found out it was blood sport as theater, and all of us were slaves. Some just had it better than others.” She looked at him expectantly, wanting to know more since this was obviously from Hulk’s point of view. Bruce rubbed the back of his head, looking for the right thing to say. “I’ve talked to Lee about it a lot in therapy. Part of me really enjoyed the place. I was at the top of the food chain, but too shortsighted and naive to understand I was being used for about a year and a half. Eventually, I started to suspect how rotten things were, but I couldn’t figure out what to do. Thor got me out of there and brought down the Grandmaster’s regime; otherwise, I might still be stuck there as a cog in a wheel of that corrupt dictatorship.”

“I don’t believe that for one minute. You would have figured it out and done something.” Natasha thought he looked so regretful that she didn’t press him further. She turned her attention to the image of Hulk fighting what appeared to be a giant black wolf on what she recognized as the Bifrost Bridge. “You look pretty heroic here, but is that Asgard burning in the background?”

“Yes, it is. I took out a monster zombie wolf named Fenrir and helped the _Statesman_ escape with everyone who could get aboard,” Bruce pointed to the huge hovering vessel, “so I was at least useful. Not all that much when Thanos showed up, but you know that part.”

“Cut it out! You did plenty, and he beat all of us. Then everyone—especially you and of course Tony and . . . well, Skrull me, too—paid the price and brought everyone back. My point is, Lee better have told you to quit beating yourself up.”

“He did. It’s hard not to have regrets though.” His Hulkish half had been looking forward to a rematch with the mass murderer, but he’d passed it up for something more important when he’d volunteered to wear the Tech Gauntlet and make the UnSnap happen. It was the right choice, but getting in a good left hook would have been very satisfying. Still, he’d also done what he’d done for her as well. He’d had to try to bring her back. If someone else had done the UnSnap and failed, Bruce would have always wondered if he could have done better, even if Tony had been the one. He’d brought it up with Lee and wondered if part of him had volunteered for self-destructive reasons since survival wasn’t a guarantee. Lee reminded him that he wasn’t the only one who’d volunteered and been willing to risk everything to perform a miracle. 

Natasha brought him out of his introspection as she gestured at the moving mural. “I’m sure the artists meant well, but this is kind of a blunt reminder in an intimate space. Have you thought of covering it up?”

“I can’t paint over it. That would really be an insult.”

“Uh, drapery?” she suggested.

“Hmm, worth looking into,” he admitted. “I like the world tree in the middle, but you’re right, a big curtain rod with something at the ends? That’s a job I can talk to Gordy about tomorrow. We better get cleaned up. There’s a rug to save downstairs.”

He showed her where the towels were and how to avoid getting drowned in the shower. She proved there was enough water pressure to hit him in the back of the head from the far side of the stall. They kissed under the rain setting and washed each other off. Bruce quickly toweled dry and threw on his boxers, a pair of jeans, and a blue t-shirt. “Take your time. I’ll go deal with the dog. Come down when you’re ready and I’ll introduce you.”

Natasha dried her locks and put on a minimal amount of makeup. She looked at her hair more closely in the mirror under the bright lights, and she saw her auburn red roots were more prominent than she’d realized earlier—as if the real her was trying to reassert herself. Still her hair had hardly grown a few inches while she was trapped in stasis, which was bizarre. If she’d had the dye on hand, she’d have gone back to her auburn red on the spot. There had been at least one beauty shop on the main street in Bridgewater, so maybe she’d pay them a visit as soon as she could get there.

Nat pulled on her clothing that he’d folded neatly for her in the bedroom. She chuckled to herself thinking one of Hulk’s contributed traits included being a neatnik since Bruce had never been quite that compulsively orderly before. She looked at the unmade bed and decided to change the sheets since they’d likely soiled them. After she’d pulled the over-sized linens off and stuffed them in the hamper, Natasha realized she didn’t know where the clean sheets were. Rather than bug Bruce, she looked for the linen closet on her own, figuring Friday would rat her out if she asked. Besides, she was curious what was in the other upstairs rooms since he’d not given her a tour yet.

Natasha doubted Bruce had a three-headed dog or an aging portrait in the attic, so she started trying doors at their end of the hall and worked her way back toward the landing and grand staircase. The first one on the right side was probably a guest bedroom because it had a lower ceiling and was cozily furnished and included an attached bathroom. The next door on the same side as the master suite facing the river was locked, but he’d left her his credit card on the dresser, so she put it to good use and easily bypassed the simple lock. This room seemed to be used for storage because all the furniture was covered with drop cloths. She turned on the lights, and when she looked up to the tall ceiling, she held her breath. The Asgardians had clearly been at work here, too, because the nature scenes moved as if there was a gentle breeze blowing through the trees and across the grass and flower-covered hills. In the middle was a lakeshore, and as she looked at it, Natasha realized it was the lake at the compound and there was the dock with their bench and then she saw an image of Bruce and she as they had been five years ago sitting there holding hands and then they kissed. She stood there for several minutes watching the scene cycle through over and over like a perfect gif, shifting from day to moonlight, before she pulled herself away.

Natasha looked around the room and decided this was the real master suite. There was a King-sized bedstead rather than a Hulk-sized bed and the other furniture was all normal-sized and in a romantic French country style made of milk-washed hard maple. It hit Natasha that he’d furnished it for her. The only thing that didn’t fit was a piece set awkwardly in the middle of the room. It easily matched the darker wood, size, and style of the furnishings in the first suite. Impulsively, she pulled the cloth cover off of it. She recognized it as a bureau that went with the larger mule chest their clothing was in. Atop it was a set of brackets that should have held a mirror. Both of the solid wooden arms and their metal brackets lay on the top. The screws were stripped, pulled completely out of their channels, and both metal pieces were bent at an almost 45-degree angle. She imagined the one swift, hard blow that had bent these and violently pulled the screws out of the oak had no doubt broken the mirror. When she looked more closely at the wood on the top, there were gouges in the otherwise smooth surface where some of the heavy glass shards had landed.

“I wanted to tell you about all this before you saw it,” Bruce said quietly from the doorway.

“I’m listening,” she told him and walked over to the door and took his hand, encouraging him to join her as she looked back up at the Asgardian mural.

“Well, it’s not the Taj Mahal, but this almost turned into a shrine for what I thought we both wanted. It was going to be a surprise for you four years ago on your first visit. I planned on it being a way to reconnect and find out what I’d done to turn her cold.”

“But the alien was alienated and wouldn’t come,” she continued for him.

He cocked his head to the side and lifted an playful eyebrow. “You know this story?”

“I’ve heard rumors. Now, how about the broken mirror?” Nat asked gently as she pointed out the mangled bureau.

“That’s a lot more recent. I got a little upset after Steve pulled his own personal Time Heist about nine days ago. Did I mentioned that part already?” he half joked. “Gordy has new parts and a mirror ordered, so we’ll have it back in our room in a few weeks.” He looked at her as if he expected more questions.

Natasha had definitely caught the “our room.” She raised an eyebrow, “Anything else you want to tell me?”

He smiled. She was still a good interrogator. “There’s something you might want in the top left drawer behind the socks I can’t wear anymore.”

“I don’t know, I’m kind of short on men’s dress socks,” she said as she opened the drawer.

“In the back, past the good wool ones.”

She found a small box and pulled it out. Natasha knew what it was immediately. “How did you find it?”

“The credit goes to Scott. I calculated where your quarters likely were in that heaping crater of concrete, and he helped me out after Tony’s funeral. That’s how I recovered the Glock and the ballet slippers.” He’d tell her sometime how he’d had Scott leave a bouquet of red roses there, too. “Your laptop was damaged, but I have that in the lab when you’re ready for it.”

Natasha held the enameled jewelry box to her chest. “At the moment, this may be more important.” She was a little afraid to open it. If the other Natasha had left things alone there, she knew what she’d find. She loosened the clasp and raised the lid. Things were a little messed up, but the arrow charm and necklace the Bartons had given her that first Christmas she’d spent with them was there. Her silver butterfly earrings were, too, and . . . the green peridot pendant she’d found in Bruce’s abandon luggage after Hulk left Sokovia for Sakaar. There were a couple of older trinkets at the bottom, too. Natasha wasn’t an overly sentimental person, but these things were dear to her because of the memories attached to them. She’d worn what Bruce jokingly called the “Hulk Gem” the first day they kissed on the dock to show him she’d found it and worn it like a talisman, hoping he’d come home. She’d had it on the day of Peggy’s funeral, the same day when T’Chaka, T’Challa’s father, was killed: it held lots of memories with a whole range of emotions attached: sorrow, hope, and a recognition of how much she missed him.

“I couldn’t bring myself to put those in the columbarium,” Bruce explained. “I thought about giving them to Lila, but hadn’t had a chance yet. I’m glad I don’t have to now.”

She took out the earrings and put them on and then the peridot pendant. “Now, if you found my batons, I’ll be set.”

“I will make you a new and better set or those and your Widow’s Bites because I think the rest of your weapons are on a planet very far away.”

She hugged him again. “Thank you.”

“Thank you for not being mad. In the spirit of keeping things honest here . . . I also punched the mirror because . . . Steve found his ‘happy ending’ and I thought I lost ours. Honestly, I’m pretty good at not acting out like that, but it just really hit me that day how unfair it all felt, like something malicious had been working against us since Sokovia.”

He wasn’t wrong. Something suspicious had been whispering to her just under the surface as well. Natasha was sure something more than simple paranoia had been at work for a good while, but she wasn’t going to let him dwell on it until she could better articulate her suspicions. “I’m going to put you to work punching something else besides furniture. You must have a gym or workout room somewhere on the property.”

“It’s mainly in the warehouse. His and hers sizes on most things,” he added. “I have some specialty stuff we’ve rigged up for resistance training, so I don’t cause major structural damage. I still do the martial arts warmups and PT in the pool. I’m doing piano again, too.”

She remembered the modified Baldwin downstairs. Banner had been a good player back when they lived in the Tower, so she’d been happy to see he hadn’t given up playing because of his size. “Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me. Tomorrow, we’re going to put that equipment to use. Agreed?”

Bruce nodded his head. “Agreed.”

“So, where’s the pup?” she asked.

“In the yard. Come on and say hello. He knows something is up. I had to put him outside or he’d have followed me up here.”

“Could you tell me where the linen closet is first? I was trying to change the sheets and not just snoop around looking for roses under bell jars.”

“Keeping it honest?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. She gave him a sly wink and a punch in his good arm for her answer. He could usually nail her when it came to honesty, so why not needle her a bit? Bruce showed her where the sheets and extra towels were kept at the other end of the hall, next to the upstairs laundry, and they made the bed. They both agreed on a preference for “hospital corners,” so that defused a possible hot-button issue. They’d worked out the correct direction for the toilet paper (over the top) long before when she’d stayed over at his suite in the Compound.

She placed the enameled box atop the dresser and grabbed her leather jacket while he pulled on a fleece one from the closet. When they got to the back door, a black furry muzzle was pressed against the screen door. “Woooof!” Clint hadn’t been kidding about how large the dog was when standing. She hadn’t guessed his shoulder was up to her hip, but plenty of the bulk was his fluffy dark coat. Now that Sirius was up and moving, the dog’s whole body wagged with his tail in excitement as he spotted them.

“Sirius, sit,” Bruce said firmly, and the dog sat down right in front of the door and blocked it.

Natasha laughed, “He seems to have that one down. Honestly, what breed do you think he is?”

Bruce grabbed a leash, a towel, and a ball. “Newfoundland or Great Pyrenees or Tibetan Mastiff mix is my guess since he’s lankier than any of those. Maybe some Standard Poodle or Waterdog? He’s quite smart, but he pretends he’s a goofball. I hope you don’t mind a little drool all that much and plenty of hair. He keeps me and everyone else busy with that. He has his own couch in the back media room, but I try and keep him limited to three or four rooms downstairs. He kennel trained very easily, but he’s a cuddler. Right boy?” Bruce scratched the white, star-shaped patch that was now clearly visible on the dog’s chest.

“That’s why I’m wearing leather,” she said. “How did you get him?”

“Friend down the road who volunteers at the animal shelter. They knew he was going to be BIG, so of course they thought of me. Like I said, I have trouble saying, ‘No.’” Bruce motioned as if he was throwing the ball and Sirius was off the porch immediately. “Quick! He’ll figure it out just as fast.” They stepped out on the porch and Bruce whistled before he tossed the ball for real. Sirius was on it before it had a second bounce, and he came trotting back proudly. Bruce locked the door and they joined the dog in the yard. “Drop it,” Bruce ordered, and Sirius lay down and chewed on the ball. Bruce rolled his eyes. “Close enough. Come here, you big baby.” The dog abandoned the slobbery ball and came up to Bruce wiggling his whole body again. “Who’s my big ball of fluffy goober?” Bruce bent down on one knee and petted and rubbed Sirius, scratching behind his ears and under his chin and belly. “Good Boy. You wanna meet Nat now?”

Bruce motioned her over and Natasha held out her hand for the canine to sniff. After some nuzzling, she cuddled him with both hands and soon Sirius was leaning into her and enjoying the attention. “Hey, who’s a good boy?” she asked and the dog flopped over on his back at her feet.

Bruce picked up the ball and wiped it off with the towel. “Well, that was easy. He’s found his queen. He usually takes longer to ask for a belly rub.” Bruce looked around. “Still no sign of Gertie, but that’s normal. The cat will say hello when she feels like it. I was thinking maybe we could walk the doggo down to the gate and meet Peter there?”

“Sounds good to me. You wouldn’t know if the hair place we passed in Bridgewater takes afternoon walk ins?”

Bruce threw the ball down the drive, and Sirius jumped to his feet and went after it. “That’s probably Designs by Darla. She cuts my hair. Let me call.” Before she could stop him, Bruce had someone on the other end of the phone call.

“You have your stylist on speed dial?” she whispered.

He smiled and nodded. “Hey, Darla. Yeah, it’s me, back home for the immediate future. Are you taking walk-ins this afternoon? No, not me, a good friend who’s staying for a while, maybe longer.” He winked at Nat. “Great! I’ll send her down. No, it’s a surprise. Yes, my arm is much improved since you saw it. The pain is a lot better, too. Thanks, I’ll stop by before long. Promise. Bye.”

“What have you gotten me into, Banner?” she drawled under her breath.

“An appointment with a very talented stylist. It’s a family establishment. I think you’ll find a warm welcome.”

“Are you sure you haven’t delivered me into the hands of the competition? You said there were Hulkies.”

Bruce pulled up and almost crossed his forearms, but caught himself and shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. “First, Hulkies aren’t locals. They are tourists, and in a few cases, stalkers. Second, Darla is married. Happily, as far as I know, or they fake it really well.” Sirius waited for them on the path ahead, so they continued on. Bruce had to take the ball out of his drooly mouth and wipe it off again before he threw the toy further down the drive.

“Does she have a picture of you on the wall?” Natasha prodded.

“Uh, yeah. So what? Every place I frequent does. It’s not like I’m signing headshots or something.” Tony had suggested that.

“I can’t believe you’re sending me into Hulkie Central,” she said dramatically.

He rolled his eyes. “Do you want me to drive you down there and make Darla swear on a stack of Science Hulk t-shirts not to give you a mohawk or something?”

“No, but I’m taking Sirius with me.” Nat smiled to herself. Banner Baiting was still one of her favorite sports.

“I know Darla well. She’s a professional. They know Sirius there, so he can vouch for her, too,” he teased back. “Trust me on this, Romanoff.”

“I can’t believe I’m taking beauty shop recommendations from the Hulk now,” she said ruefully. “What has the world come to?” Bruce just snorted.

When they arrived at the gate, Bruce put the lead on Sirius and gave her the towel and the ball before digging a couple of dog treads out of his pocket. “Don’t let him eat the ball because he will. You sure you know how to get there?”

“It’s not that hard. I have your number, and I’ll text you when we get there.”

“Here, just in case there’s some trouble with the card since you don’t have an ID yet,” Bruce said and gave her several bills out of his wallet. “You can pay me back if you insist when your accounts are recovered or let me actually treat you.”

“Fine, but I imagine everything is still there if the Skrull was really pretending to be me.” She was going to handle her accounts like they’d been breached and open new ones starting tomorrow. Natasha folded the bills and stuck them in her jacket’s inner pocket with the card.

Bruce bent down and talked to the dog. “Sirius, don’t take her arm out of the socket.” The black mix gave him an incredulous look as if he’d been insulted. Bruce patted him and stood up. “I’ll be here with Peter. Just call or buzz from the gate.”

She smiled—like he could stop her—and stood on her toes as Bruce bent down to kiss her before she and Sirius set off walking down the river road. The dog was young, but he was trained well and didn’t try and drag her along. She smiled as she imagined the oversized mix and Bruce attending a puppy academy. Sirius looked up at her for cues and ambled along beside her, keeping pace until they arrived back at the main road. Sirius stopped, looked up at her again, and whined, as if he wondered what was next. “It’s okay. We should be back by supper time,” she reassured him and gave him a few pats on his neck. They crossed the road and were soon walking down the town’s main street.

Designs by Darla had a red, black, and gold-lettered sign with an artful flourish and a pair of barber’s scissors. There was a big bowl of water out front, so she knew it had to be dog-friendly. Natasha had just texted Bruce when a high school-age girl with flame red hair pulled back in a ponytail came out to greet them and went straight for the pup.

“Hey, big boy! Where have you been, Sirius?” she asked as she bent down and hugged and cuddled him. His puppy nature was instantly on display as he snuggled then barked and bowed low on his front paws with his butt in the air and tail wagging furiously. The girl finally looked up at Natasha. “Hi, I can take him down to the park while you get your haircut . . .” she volunteered then suddenly opened her eyes wide in recognition. “Uhhh, is it Ms. Romanoff? I heard you had died.”

Natasha put a finger to her lips. It wasn’t a secret, but she’d rather not have to deal with curious strangers or reporters just yet. “Hi, call me Natasha.”

“Oh my God! I’m . . . I’m Michelle, um, Shelly.” She reached out her hand and shook Nat’s. “I’m such a fan. I know Dr. Banner, of course, and I met Mr. Stark once when he was visiting. I’m so sorry about him. I imagine you were friends, too.”

Natasha waited on her to take a breath since Shelly seemed so excited. “Thank you. Are you related to Darla?”

“Yes, that’s my mom! I help with sweeping up and whatever needs done after school. Oh, I’m sorry! Let me take Sirius, so you can go in.” Shelly took the lead and equipment from Nat and held open the door. “Mom is going to flip out! See you in a bit!”

Natasha entered the door of the hair salon and immediately spotted the person who had to be Darla behind the cash register. A brunet woman in her twenties was buttoning her coat and running her fingers through her newly-cut hair as she passed Natasha on the way out. The place looked modern with a lot of white and gray with black accents. Natasha walked up to the counter and the fortyish strawberry blond woman looked up and put her hand to her mouth as she immediately recognized her.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Banner’s friend. He called you about . . .”

“You’re Natasha Romanoff,” she said at just above a whisper.

Natasha smiled and nodded, “You must be Darla.” Nat held out her hand and the older woman came around the counter and shook it vigorously as if she was a little star struck.

“Yes, I had no idea. What a surprise! I’m happy to meet you. Bruce was so sad when he came in for a trim the last time. I’m sorry to hear about Mr. Stark. Were you unsnapped or blipped or whatever?”

Natasha had been thinking about how to handle that question. “Something similar. I’ve been out of touch for the same amount of time,” she said and dropped it, hoping not to have to go into further detail. It would have been accurate to say she’d been kidnapped and impersonated, but she wasn’t going to admit that in public if she could avoid it.

“Well, welcome back! Our older daughter Rachelle was lost, but I turned around just two weeks ago and there she was walking through the door, not a day older than before the Decimation. It’s been crazy, but I can’t thank you guys enough. I saw Bruce’s arm and my heart broke. He said it’s doing better?”

“It’s not quite back to normal, but we’re going to be working on it. Give him a few months,” Nat assured the woman.

“Thank goodness! He really deserves a break. This town owes him for keeping us on the map, and he’s very generous with his time and resources.” Natasha saw the woman was genuinely tearing up. Darla pulled a tissue from her smock’s side pocket and dabbed at her eyes and nose. “I’m sorry. It’s been a real emotional rollercoaster. How long have you known Bruce?”

“Eleven years, but I missed out on a few.” Two while he was gone and five that she was, which left four years of mutual pining before they were really together. She couldn’t believe they’d been stuck in neutral for that long, but there it was. If she had it to do over, maybe she’d have kidnapped him out of Tony’s lab after busting up Strucker’s operation and sabotaged Ultron as a bonus. Hindsight!

Darla seemed to have her tears back under control. “Well, I hope you’ll be able to get caught up soon. There’s a support group that meets on Tuesdays and Thursdays at All Saints Episcopal Church, 7:00pm, that Rachelle has been to. She says it helps to talk, get connected to resources since the legal issues and paperwork are a real mess.”

“I’ll remember that. I was wondering if you’d have time to dye my hair as well as cut it?” Natasha asked.

“That depends on if I have the right color product. Let me have a look.” Darla stepped closer and ran her hands through Natasha’s blonde bob to check the inch or two of grown out roots. “I’m guessing Bright Copper or Red Penny. You’re more on the auburn than the honey end of the scale. Have a seat in the chair and I’ll be right back.” The hairdresser disappeared into the back of the salon and returned before Natasha had hung up her jacket and sat down. “That’s a nice shade of platinum, but you can probably guess I’m partial to redheads.” She pointed to a family picture on the wall. It was from a few years ago, but Shelly and (presumably) Rachelle and a son and husband all had a variety of shades of red. “We’re kind of used to the Farkle Family and Weasley jokes.”

“It looks like Shelly is almost caught up to Rachelle in age,” Natasha guessed.

“Our son Daniel has passed her up. It’s been a little awkward, but he’s away at school. Rachelle is taking some time off from college to figure things out.” Darla sighed and handed the two boxes of hair products to Natasha. “Which one do you think is closer to your color?”

Natasha studied them for a minute. “I’m going to say Bright Penny.”

“That’s my guess, too.”

“Well, bye-bye to the chilly blond then. Let's get on with it!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was mostly on my own, but Autumn_Froste and EmilyGrace13 did see the first draft of this, so my thanks, ladies! The errors and any misjudgments are mine. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the Fannons and Headcanons. I had to do the Beauty and Beast and some other tropes/themes at some point. I see Nat pushing and prodding Bruce (and others) to puzzle out all the developments she missed. Banner and Hulk are in a better place than when she last saw them, but Bruce is still a work in progress--as we all are--and he has the marks inside and out to prove it despite finding some inner peace. I don't know about you, but I didn't like the way Nat let herself go as she worked herself to death in the movie, and her overly symbolic hair just looked like a mess to me (like she was inside and out). Thus, I'm very glad to have Natasha here venture into Bridgewater and put that hair in the rearview mirror. Bruce would love her no matter how she looked, but I bet he'd prefer her natural color back. Likewise, I think she'd love Bruce and not be bothered by his appearance. 
> 
> [Skip this if you liked Endgame Nat because it gets salty.] Frankly, the looks she gives him in the diner scene in Endgame are part of what made me so upset about "Smart Hulk" to begin with. She seemed to barely be able to stand the sight of him, yet she didn't hesitate to use her "special skills set" to cloyingly cozy back up to him and pathetically stroke his ego when he hesitated to do what she wanted. It looked fake and two-faced compared to every time she'd looked at him before. He still did what she wanted because he loved her, but I read it as a sad, sickly reflection of what she had felt for him before he merged and she suddenly was a cold, shallow, manipulative bitch. I know people will disagree, but time and again it was Bruce who was clearly still in love with her, hoping for a chance to reconnect even after she was gone, maiming himself for her, while she was too obsessed with tilting at windmills to give him a crumb except when it fit her agenda. It was the most OOC trajectory of any character in the whole MCU, and it broke my heart to see how this wasn't the Nat we knew who waited years to be together with Bruce and loved and wanted to be with him. They turned her into a mentally ill caricature of her former self--a tool of the plot rather than a developed, strong, and interesting character as she had been. They reduced her to a pathetic shut-in who thinks she had "a family" while they all abandon her "on her wall "at the compound (or maybe couldn't stand to be around her). What a role model. All she had left in life was to kill herself. Her highest calling was suicide. Great message to send to girls. The only way to make sense of the Natasha in Endgame for me is for that version to be a fake and a fraud. Not my Widow. 
> 
> If you'd like to see the cover edits for each part, check out my Pinterest board or the Brutasha Nation page on Facebook. This one includes a shower edit and a fluffy doggo.
> 
> Comments, questions, and commiseration are always welcome! Please give a like, a follow, a kudo, a review, a share, a tweet, and tell your friends to give it a read!
> 
> Next up: Part 13: Remembering/Gathering the Pieces. I’m still making up my mind. Natasha gets a haircut. Peter and Bruce do what Science Buds do.


	13. Part 13: Open and Honest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce calls Lee and Peter arrives to talk about more than science. Nat gets the local scoop from Darla and Shelly at the salon before heading back home with a new haircut and an old color.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s the afternoon of Monday, October 30, 2023.

Bruce leaned on the gate and watched Nat and the pup disappear around the bend in the road. He needed to talk to Lee and give him the good news, but he wondered if he should text him or bother him with a call since they’d talked just that morning. He’d contact Pepper and Hap later after Morgan was in bed. News tended to travel fast on its own in their circle, so he’d leave it to Nick and Clint to let the rest know. Natasha could call or visit Steve when she felt ready. He was still a little too mad to talk to the old shit himself, but Bruce wouldn’t discourage her. There were things they all needed to know going forward, and Bruce was completely in favor of Nat putting her specific skill set to work if that’s what it took to get some straight answers.

After a few minutes of debating back and forth, Bruce texted Lee and asked if it was okay to talk on a secure line because he had some good news. Besides sharing the joy, Bruce wanted to keep Lee informed since the psychiatrist understood how devastating the breakup and the fake Natasha’s death had been. In less than a minute, his phone rang and Samson was on the other end.

“Hi, Bruce. I’m waiting here in the car while Betty is in the store with the kids. What’s up?” Lee asked.

“Well, this is almost beyond belief, but something really, truly wonderful has happened. The Natasha I’ve been dealing with for the past five years and who died two weeks ago wasn’t the real one.” He could hear Lee’s breath catch. “The real Natasha was kidnapped and replaced when I first came down to meet with you a few weeks after the Decimation.”

“My God! Oh, my . . . God. That explains a lot Bruce.” Bruce could image the shocked look on Lee’s face. “How? If you can tell me of course.”

“I was over at the Compound site by the lake earlier today, and I got some surprising readings when I was scanning the area and going over rebuilding plans. There was a ship or vessel hidden in the deepest point in the lake, and Nat had been kept in stasis there. The thing uncloaked and let her go. I was able to raise it out of the lake and then others showed up to help.”

“You found her? She’s alive?”

Bruce grinned as he pictured the astonished look on Lee’s face. “Yes. She’s staying here at my house with me. Sirius is taking her for a walk into town right now.”

“That’s wonderful! How are you doing?”

Bruce thought for a moment, running his injured hand through his hair. “It’s almost as if the last five years didn’t happen, but of course they did. I was concerned she’d freak out at how much I’ve changed since she last saw me, but she rolled with it. We haven’t gotten to discussing the details yet, but I’m probably more worried about how she feels than I need to be. Nat has always been such a rock. She’s a bit guarded, which is understandable, but so far, my . . . my appearance doesn’t seem to bother her. I mean, we both loved her, so on my part, that’s stayed the same. I know the changes are a lot for anyone to process.” He gave up trying to stand still and began to pace along the drive. “I just keep getting these flashes of rejection from before, even it didn’t come from her. No panic attacks yet. Just some anxiety as I try to catch her up and we go over the difficult parts. I should have more faith in her.”

“That’s normal behavior, Bruce. It’s okay to be cautious. You had a difficult time and the impersonator was hurtful and toxic when she wasn’t being manipulative. You didn’t deserve that. It will probably get easier as you sort out things with Natasha. How do you think she herself is doing?”

“She acts like she hasn’t missed a beat, but I’m sure everything is going to catch up with her at some point. I’ve asked her to stay here with me while she figures things out for the next month or so. I hope she’ll decide to make her home with me after that. So far, she seems ready to work things out here. She’s not shied away from intimacy either. I was really worried about that.”

“Bruce, that’s good.” Lee thought for a few moments before responding further. “Be sure and give her space. You had the right approach before, just apparently with the wrong person. Be patient with her. Be as open and honest with her as you can. Be willing to take some risks if she’s willing to keep working with you. I know you can only say so much about the situational details here, but I think time is finally on your side.”

Explaining more to Lee was very tempting because the therapist had official clearance, but too much knowledge could still be dangerous. “Right now, it’s mostly need-to-know, but we’ll see. We’ve yet to be debriefed or make decisions about how to handle this publicly.” Bruce took a deep breath. “I almost don’t want to get my hopes up, but I’m so relieved that it’s really her.”

“I think you’re on the right track. I know you’ll be able to handle this. Bruce, this is such great news, wow! I’m so happy for you both.”

“Thanks, Lee. I just wanted to touch base while I had a few minutes since this is almost unbelievable news.”

“I’m glad you’ve finally had something break your way, my friend. Don’t hesitate to call if you or Natasha need anything.”

“Thanks, and give my best to Betty and the kids.” Bruce hung up and pocketed his phone. He had time to take a look at the gate to see if Clint had tampered with it and didn’t find any evidence of it. He wouldn’t put it past Barton just to be messing with him, but he’d already run one security diagnostic before Clint even left and scheduled a more thorough one for later. Right on time, Peter showed up a few minutes later in a small royal blue Ford Fusion hybrid. Bruce waved him in and closed the gate.

Peter rolled down his window. “Hi, Dr. Banner. I’m glad I caught you in today. You said to stop by if I felt like it.”

“I certainly did, Peter. You have an open invitation. I’m glad you found the place. Follow me,” Bruce said as he pointed him down the driveway. The physicist started walking down the path beside the car. “I was hoping you’d come by. If you’re interested, there are some projects I think Tony might like you to take over that he was working on here.”

“Really?!” Peter immediately perked up.

“Yeah. Most of it’s in the warehouse, but if you’re in for working on something, we can make it active and bring the components over to the labs. I like your wheels by the way.”

“Thanks, it’s my aunt’s new car, so I have to be really careful.”

“Did I tell you I was mostly raised by my aunt, too?”

~o~

“I’d call it a medium pixie cut,” Darla said as she gave Natasha a hand mirror and turned the chair so she could see the back. “How about the color?”

“I think you nailed it!” Nat said with a confident smile. She was pleased with both the color and the shorter cut.

“If it ends up we haven’t, come back and we’ll try the Red Penny. How long are you going to be staying?” the beautician asked.

“Good question,” Natasha admitted. “For at least a few weeks, but maybe a lot longer if things work out.”

“Fingers crossed!” the stylist said with a grin.

“Mine, too!” Nat hated being cryptic like that, especially after Darla and Shelly had given her a pretty comprehensive background on the town and what they knew about Bruce’s local public profile without her even having to pry. Natasha might have been the professional interrogator, but the stylist was also good at making her feel comfortable then asking a fairly pointed question or two. There was clearly some underlying concern for Bruce there. Natasha had given a pretty sanitized version of the first time Bruce and she met in Kolkata, India, and their one and only date night off the Compound property when the stylist had asked. After that they’d also talked about more neutral things like movies, television, sports, and books she’d missed. She now had some suggestions for viewing to catch up on if Bruce was agreeable.

When Shelly brought Sirius back from a second long walk after playing in the park, Darla had been finishing up with the highlights. Natasha asked about the Hulkies, and mother and daughter had laughed. “What’s so funny?” Nat wanted to know.

“You need to go have a look at the Chamber of Commerce, but you’ll have to wait till tomorrow for them to be open,” Darla explained. “Bruce isn’t Big Foot or Nessie, but they have a gift shop that’s a hoot. I’m not going to spoil it.”

“Bruce said there were _Go Green_ t-shirts and Science Hulk.”

“That’s the official stuff,” Shelly said. “Some of it’s cute toys and things since kids just love him, but there are a couple of cheesy, touristy places at the end of the street with a lot more, uh . . . _adult stuff_.”

“Oh . . .” Nat trailed off, letting her imagination fill in the blanks. Tony wasn’t the only coarse person out there. “Did you know Bruce before he became permanently big and green?”

“Yes, not as well though. He was a bit more solitary back then, but he was working pretty hard on renovating the place,” Darla said. Shelly retrieved a framed photograph from the wall and handed it to Nat. It was Bruce as she remembered him standing out front with Darla and maybe another stylist. He was in his usual blue dress shirt and a dark wool jacket, but he looked thin and tired with dark circles under his eyes. _Too many all-nighters or worries? What had her doppelganger put him through?_

“When was this taken?” she asked.

Darla and Shelly looked at each other before Darla answered, “I want to say just short of a year, ten or eleven months maybe, after the Decimation. Right in the middle of his place being renovated.”

Nat wished she’d been there. She honestly wanted to know how it had all happened. “Did he just come in changed to big and green one day?”

“He’d been here over a year and a half. Don’t misunderstand, he’d always been friendly, but he kept to himself since the renovations were in full swing. Then it got quiet for a while once most of the contractors were finished. After about two weeks of things being so quiet people were getting concerned, he walked into the post office like he is now and picked up a bunch of mail orders. Everyone kind of treated it like he’d come out or something. Bruce just seemed so much more comfortable and happier after that. He started doing a lot of outreach in the community, and then he was going further afield and helping with big emergencies and natural disasters. He was on the news every other week either saving people or testifying as an expert or doing whatever needed done. Has he not said anything about it?”

“No, but he’s pretty modest, and I’ve only been back since this morning.”

“Wow, you need to do some Googling,” Shelly advised. “He really is a hero. No one heard a lot out of the rest of the Avengers after the Decimation, but he stepped into the gap. War Machine was around for big official things, but Dr. Banner really is the one everyone knows and likes. He saved the Saint Louis Arch after the earthquake last year, and he helped War Machine shore up Hoover Dam before that. The science videos and social media stuff just cemented the deal.”

“He also worked on the big update to the Sustainable Electrical Grid, too,” Darla added. “I can’t explain the details, but he and Mr. Stark along with some others are responsible for designing it to work across borders.”

“Whoa, I better plan to do my homework.” She’d thought about all this as Darla cut her hair earlier, when she didn’t have to answer questions. The picture that was emerging was both heartening and heartbreaking. He’d given up on her doppelganger and finally worked on himself. That had to be a good thing was her honest assessment. She wondered what part Tony had played. He’d stayed retired from the Avengers, but he seemed to have still worked regularly with Bruce. Surely, there had been others who’d helped support him, right? Lee had been there for him as a therapist, but she couldn’t shake the image of Bruce struggling through the process and wonder why he’d chosen the physical extreme he had. Her fear was he’d gone completely over to accommodating Hulk for some reason. Natasha could not imagine Bruce doing it just to be in the spotlight, but there might be other reasons she had yet to consider. She hoped he’d be willing to talk about what he’d done soon because she wanted to understand how he’d come to remake himself the way he had. “Tell me, Darla, what do I owe you?”

~o~

“That, that’s just amazing, Dr. Banner,” Peter stammered as he and Bruce went over some holographic designs for upgrades to the nanotechnology he’d worked on with Tony. “The organic fibers and the new metal fusion ought to increase the flexibility by what? Ten percent?”

“Twelve, but I think we could do better. Did you get to meet T’Challa or Shuri after the funeral?”

“Only for a few minutes. I . . . I don’t remember a lot of the details from that day.”

Bruce gently rested a hand on the teen’s shoulder. “Frankly, Peter, me either. I’m glad I finally got to talk to you, but, yeah, it’s all been pretty hard. He really missed you during the gap.” Bruce knew Tony felt completely shattered by Peter’s death, so it was no surprise Peter felt the same way about his. “There are some files Tony left that I’ve not worked up my nerve to open just yet. I’m not in a huge hurry.” Some had arrived posthumously after the funeral.

“I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready,” Peter said miserably.

“Tell you what. Take your time. Get back to school and enjoy the field trip to Europe you were talking about, and we’ll both see how we’re feeling in a few months. I want to visit Wakanda sometime in the spring, and I want you to come with me. Talk to your Aunt, and we’ll get that ball rolling as well. Deal?”

Peter nodded and held up his fist to bump. “Deal!”

Bruce used his injured hand to return the bump. “By the way, have you met Harley Keener?”

“He was the kid a little older than me at the funeral, right?”

“Right. He’s in his third year at MIT. He’s spent some time here working with Tony and me and my local high school interns over the last few years. Harley is making a name for himself with assistance robots. We were joking at the funeral that I might need one. Anyway, here’s his card for when you want to talk and you can’t reach me. He said he didn’t mind a call or having a cup of coffee.”

Peter took the card and admired the hologram of a robot converting into a wheelchair and then a stepladder and a lift. “Wow, he really does these?”

“Yes, he’s going to have one hell of a senior thesis. Harley put together the prototype here last summer. If it weren’t for the business minor, he’d be done. I’m trying to talk him into buying some adjacent property down the road for a manufacturing facility, but I think his heart and the better tax breaks are still in Tennessee.”

“Friendly, hometown entrepreneur, I guess,” Peter joked.

“It does have its appeals. You know, the reactors, the armors, the AI, and nanotech are all incredible, but you guys and Morgan are going to be Tony’s real legacy, Peter. Don’t be afraid to feel the loss because it’s going to keep hitting us in odd moments from now on. Remember the good times. It’s going to be a while before it gets better, but they tell me it will.” He’d lived through enough loss himself to know.

“I keep thinking, if I could have just been a little quicker, maybe we could have gotten Carol to do the snap or maybe I should have . . .”

Bruce gently put his good hand back on the teen’s shoulder. “Peter, I keep doing the same thing. If I hadn’t promised to return the Stones, we could have just destroyed them like Thanos did, or Tony should have let me do it again, but that’s not the way it happened. Believe me, I understand that part of what you’re feeling.” He made a fist with his injured hand and massaged it with his left hand. At moments like this, it ached and put off a bit of heat. “It’s kind of natural for people like us to beat ourselves up over situations we think we could have controlled.” Peter looked up at the older man with a sense of recognition. “From one guilt-ridden control freak to another, Tony made his choice. We’ll have to respect that and eventually move forward.”

“I don’t want to do that without him in the world though. I can’t let that go,” Peter said hoarsely and tried to swallow.

“Kid, you’re not alone. It’s going to be hard, but we’ll manage because that’s what he helped us all learn.” The weight of the world seemed to be bearing down on the teen. Bruce stepped in front of Peter, and the struggling teen hugged him fiercely around the waist. Bruce patted his back. The kid was so damn young. _One more day_ , Bruce thought, _keep moving forward_. He’d promised Tony if something happened to him, he’d be there for these kids, no matter what.

When Peter stepped back, he focused his attention on Bruce’s healing hand. “Thanks. Hey, what’s going on with your arm? It looks a lot better than it did at the funeral.”

Bruce slid the ever-present tissue box to him across the console at which they’d been working, relieved to have a change in subject. “I’m glad you noticed. Speaking of other people I’d like you to meet, Shuri and Dr. Helen Cho have had a few goes at it. Not to be gratuitous with the muscle flexing, but this is kind of neat, and I also need to keep working this hand.” Bruce unbuttoned his dress shirt and pulled it off so that he was down to a tank t-shirt. He loosened up his arm and hung the dress shirt on a coatrack over his lab coat. “You’re familiar with Dr. Cho’s work?”

“I’ve read through the background files in the Avengers’ database.”

“Okay, there have been updates to the Cradle tech since Ultron, and Shuri has added Wakandan medical Vibranium research to the cell overlay.” He held out his right forearm and pointed to the scars left by the graft seams that were getting less noticeable by the day. “If I could make myself really Hulk out, we’re pretty sure I would have self-repaired, but for obvious reasons, that’s not a good idea. I’ve had two treatments so far, and . . .”

“How did they put the muscle back then? This looks so much better than it did.”

“It wasn’t pretty. Shuri used a Vibranium blade with a Gamma-laser that we co-designed to lay the skin back, so Helen could apply the cultured sheets of cells.”

“She was able to grow your cells? I mean, I get that’s what the Cradle does, but the Gamma has to make it a lot more difficult to keep them stable.”

“We had to monitor the radiation levels closely, and we were limited by the amount Helen could clone and work with at a time. Even with the Vibranium grid to reinforce and provide a framework for them, they’re pretty unstable outside of me. Otherwise, we probably could have put all the muscle mass back in one treatment.”

“So, Dr. Cho applied the cultivated muscle tissues in layers, and then they just closed you back up?”

“Twice. It’s a little more complex than that with the circulatory and lymphatic considerations, but there was no rejection and the vibranium bonded the new and existing cell structures together, and we used a low dose of gamma radiation to give the repair rate a boost afterward. The capillaries regenerated almost immediately from the primary grafts Helen extended.”

“I’ve been wondering something. You said the Stones mainly put out gamma radiation, so why couldn’t you absorb it and avoid taking all that damage?”

“That’s a good question. I’m only working from partial data sets since the battle destroyed any information that didn’t get immediately uploaded into the cloud. This is my best guess, because I was using my will to direct the Stones, that put me into direct contact with their power. I put that energy into a loop when I tried to bring Natasha back, and the stones lashed out at me with their energy that wasn’t gamma radiation. That’s what did the damage, not the gamma rays. I think I inherently tapped into that to make the Snap work. What damaged me was that backlash from trying to force the rest of the Stones to override the Soul Stone. I’d be happy to listen to any other theories you have, but that’s what I’m thinking happened.”

“That sounds like they punished you.” Peter discerned. “Did you sense that or something?”

“The Stones are sentient. Their message wasn’t exactly delivered in words, but the meaning was clear. They all expected me to pay a price, and they thought I was foolish for trying to bring her back.”

“Ask him why it didn’t work, Peter. I want to hear that part,” a low feminine voice encouraged them from the warehouse room’s doorway.

Bruce turned and gave a low whistle of appreciation and smiled admiringly at Natasha while Peter stared and then gaped before he sputtered, “But . . . but, they said you, you, you were dead, Ms. Romanoff! Dr. Banner just said he couldn’t snap you back.”

“He didn’t have to do it. That was only the fill-in me,” Natasha explained without explaining.

Peter held his hands to his temples as if the surprise would make his head explode. “Oh my God, this is so, wow!” Peter looked at Bruce. “This was your good news you were saving till the end?” He looked back a Nat. “What happened?”

She looked at Bruce, not sure what he might have said and how much to explain without giving Peter too much information for his own safety and peace of mind.

“I’ve not said anything yet,” Bruce told her. “Peter has the equivalent of a Level-5 clearance, so I’m leaving this to your discretion.”

The kid had a good heart and head, but his mouth babbled a bit. “I was replaced, but now I’m back. You can ask a few questions, but most of this is on a need-to-know basis, Pete.”

“Was it a Life Model Decoy? Mr. Stark was always joking there were androids, and for the record, I knew that if he didn’t get out of his armor, he probably wasn’t in it.”

Bruce chose not to make eye contact and looked at his feet to avoid any tells. “Good observation,” Natasha said.

“So, it was an android?!” Peter assumed.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Then it wasn’t an android. Was it from on or off the planet?”

Bruce continued to stare impassively at his feet, determined not to tip anything off. “A good question,” Natasha responded.

“Ahhh!! You’re not going to tell me anything!” Peter complained. “You guys keep doing that to me!”

“Another good observation,” Bruce said under his breath.

Peter cocked his head and gave her a skeptical look. “How do we know you’re really Ms. Romanoff then?!”

“Ask me something only I would know,” she challenged.

“Tell me some things only you would know,” he shot back, attempting to turn the tables.

“I asked you to quit calling me ‘Ms. Romanoff’ at the Leipzig/Halle Airport in Germany because it annoyed me then, and it still annoys me now. We both like asparagus, we hate Tony’s disappointed voice, and I wish I had your reflexes. Also, you’re now taller than I am, but I’m already getting used to it. Good enough?”

Bruce put his hand over his mouth and turned away because he was about to laugh. Peter piped up in a meek voice, “Sorry, N-Natasha.”

“Well, as long as I’m mean enough to be me, I still want to find out about some science-related issues, like someone’s the DNA, but I don’t want to hijack the discussion.” She looked expectantly at Bruce who looked a little put on the spot.

“May I ask where my dog is first, so he doesn’t ambush Peter?”

“He’s behaving himself outside,” she assured him. _Like either of those things will happen_ , Natasha thought, and they both knew it.

Bruce narrowed his eyes a bit and nodded, “Okay, and you look lovely, by the way.” She smiled graciously and gestured for him to continue. “Well, I’m in the unusual position of having three sets of DNA. I was born with two and I spliced them to create a third.”

The young scientist interrupted, “You had a twin? You’re a chimera?”

“Very good. Yes, and yes,” Bruce affirmed. “I still am. My twin’s body died in utero, but his cells lived on as part of me. The radiation exposure from the accident caused them to express and . . . along with other elements, are what used to cause my Dissociative Identity Disorder to present with the physical changes.”

“You mean when you Hulked out?” Peter asked.

“Yes, the physical change one way or another was linked to which personality was in charge.”

“So, you merged your personalities and that caused the DNA to do the same thing?” Peter guessed.

Bruce chewed his lower lip and thought for a moment how to explain the process he’d undergone without getting too far into the weeds. “It’s sort of the other way around. My personalities were both mains or dominant personalities, depending upon the form. We couldn’t really merge comfortably with either physical extreme, so I had to find a body in the middle that was stable and not painful for either personality.”

Peter was hanging on his every word. “Did you use CRISPR to do it?”

“I used a similar but more advanced procedure called ‘prime editing’ to do the gene editing and splicing, yes,” Bruce affirmed. “It’s more precise than CRISPR. Prime editors are more like word processors that search for targeted DNA sequences and precisely replace them with edited DNA strands, using two fused enzymes: CAS9 and another called reverse transcriptase. The combined enzymes are coupled with pegRNA, which is engineered to direct the editing enzymes to the target site in the DNA being edited and carries the new edited sequence.”

Peter was almost bouncing on his toes with excitement. “Wow, your whole genome?”

“Well, I mapped both of the two I had, and there were only a small percentage of differences between them. Those are what I had to edit together.”

“You got to like pick out your hair color?” Peter asked wide-eyed.

“Both forms have the same hair and eye color, so it wasn’t like making a designer baby or something. I needed to find a middle ground that was maintainable and comfortable for both sides. Hulk’s body was always very painful because there were issues with the amount of mass it required that was greater than Banner’s. There was over a 1,200-lb. difference between the two.”

Peter was practically doing a Hermione-style hand in the air. “Where did the mass come from? I’ve always wondered about it.”

“You would want to pin me down on that,” Bruce said with a sigh, and he had to stop himself from starting to pace. Instead, he pulled up a holographic visual of his anatomy to hover above the console. “The gamma radiation I absorbed and stored in my hypothalamus provided part of that, but when I transformed and the radiation was released from that area,” he pointed and the hologram illustrated the process, “part of that converted into mass, but that still wasn’t enough to account for all of the mass that manifested. My best guess was that it was somehow pulled from dark matter.”

“Oh, wow,” Peter’s mind was running a million miles a second. “That would make sense! The charges at the atomic level must reverse and attract it.”

“Very good! It’s a working hypothesis, but I don’t intend to be collecting any further data,” Bruce said with a shrug. “Anyway, I did the splicing and editing to get my cells to convert the gamma alone to mass and hold it permanently. Taking the dark mater out of the equation seems to have stabilized things. I applied the genetic treatment and used a controlled amount of gamma radiation as a catalyst, and you see the result.” Bruce gestured broadly to himself and grinned. “Then, with a stable body as a constant, we were finally able to integrate successfully.”

Peter nodded and studied the comparison diagrams a moment before a worried look settled on his face. “But, that means you can’t Hulk out further though, right? That’s what you meant about not collecting further data.”

“Correct, what you see is it. I probably can’t get smaller either.”

“How do you know that? Are we talking theory or have you tried?” the teen pressed.

“If I didn’t do it when I thought Natasha died, I don’t think I can get there from here anymore.”

“Did you get mad or were you sad?” Peter asked.

“Well, sadder and more frustrated with myself, I suppose,” Bruce admitted.

“I think that’s your problem,” Peter suggested.

Bruce nearly rolled his eyes but settled on frowning. “I really don’t see that as a problem, Peter. I’m plenty big and bad enough for anything I need to do here.”

Peter looked at Natasha. “I think if he got really mad, his healing factor would kick in.”

“Have you ever seen him mad?” she asked.

“Not in person,” Peter admitted. He’d had barely seen him in the Battle with Thanos’ forces.

“Then you don’t know the possible consequences,” Bruce returned a bit sharply. “There are also other possibilities, too. I might not get bigger at all. I tried to put in failsafes, but there’s no way of knowing if they’re successful unless they’re triggered.”

“Whoa! I think I see what you’re saying. You’ve reversed the effect of the mutation that added the mass. That would mean, instead of expanding when you got really mad, your body might contract back to a smaller form. You might be closer to regular human-sized again at least until you calmed down.”

Bruce dismissed the visuals from above the console. “There’s a remote chance of that, but I might also be out of control or incapacitated since I’d be in crippling pain, no matter what. The idea is it would make me pass out if I went too far either direction.”

Natasha had gone quiet and listened to the two science geeks go back and forth. She had some of her answers, but those only made her think of more questions. She was feeling a little sick thinking of Bruce working through a list of what both main personalities wanted and letting Hulk’s needs completely dictate his choices. She could see the Bruce she knew doing it out of guilt and maybe even out of repressed anger or pain. He had always tended to punish himself, often when he didn’t deserve the blame.

Nat took a deep breath. She knew she was being too proprietary and taking what had happened to him way too personally. What he did wasn’t about her. He was the one who had to make peace with himself, but she really wanted to understand his decisions. Natasha had been Hulk’s advocate and his and Bruce’s S.H.I.E.L.D. handler dating back to before meeting face to face in Kolkata, so she felt invested in both of them. Bruce hadn’t brought up any of his visuals or even stats till he got to the end of his explanation. He was still holding that information close to the vest. She told herself to be patient. He’d share it with her when he was ready. The sharp sound of Peter’s phone sounding out a rap tune brought her back into the moment.

“Hi, May. Yah, I’m getting ready to head back. Dr. Banner had some tools for me, and I’ll talk to you about some other things when I get home. Love you. Yes, I know the best route back. Bye!” When she noted he hadn’t been embarrassed about telling his aunt he loved her, Natasha made eye contact with Bruce. He mirrored her pleased smile—Spider Son was going to be okay. There was a long road ahead, but they both felt optimistic where Peter was concerned.

Bruce handed Peter what looked like a red toolbox, so he didn’t forget it. They walked back through the lab and opened the door to find Sirius wagging his whole body and waiting for them. “Sit!” Bruce ordered, and the big furry dog dropped his back end, but kept wagging his tail. “Peter, this is Sirius.”

“Hey, boy!” The teen held out his hand to let the dog give him a sniff, and Sirius smelled and then gave him a friendly lick. Peter petted him and rubbed the dog’s chest. “Does that feel good?” Sirius butted his shoulder into Peter’s thigh. “I wish I could stay, boy, but I’ve got traffic to face.”

“Next time, you’re welcome to bring up your Aunt May, and we’ll make our case for going to Wakanda,” Bruce suggested.

Peter straightened up and gave Bruce a hug, which he gently returned. “Sounds good to me, Dr. Banner-er, Bruce.” Bruce embraced him a moment and gave the teen a careful pat on the back. Peter looked at Natasha, not quite sure if she was into hugging at all.

“Come here,” she said with a laugh and hugged him. She was done passing up opportunities to let people know she cared. In a few minutes, Peter was headed down the drive to the gate where Friday let him out and Sirius barked his good-bye before trotting off in the direction of the house. “Peter’s going to be okay,” Natasha told Bruce.

“He will be,” Bruce agreed, “and he’s got support for when he needs it. I’ll check in with Hap and Pepper later. He’s spending a few days with her and Morgan at the lake house. Peter has visited there, but Hap has had the most contact with him in New York.” Now, he turned his attention to Natasha and smiled as he gave her an admiring look. “Wow, didn’t I tell you Darla would do a nice job?” He gently brushed a few bright auburn strands back from her face. “This is the color I remember.”

“She was as good as you said,” Natasha admitted.

“They’re good people. They’ve been very supportive over the years.”

“Shelly seems like a nice kid. Maybe you ought to introduce her to Peter.”

“That’s not a bad idea, but if you’re thinking of matchmaking, I think he already has someone he’s interested in at school.”

“Oh, and how do you know this?” she asked.

“He asked how hard it was to fit people into your life with or without telling them what you really do. I figured that meant he had someone in mind.”

“What did you tell him?”

“If you can, it’s best to be honest and open with people, whether it’s about who you are or how you feel. Bruce glanced down at his bare feet before he looked back up at her quiet earnestly. “I meant it before. You look really beautiful, Nat.”

She actually blushed and had to glance down herself, but she reached over and touched his damaged hand, slipping hers inside his. The way he looked at her, even after they’d been through all this earth-shattering, lifechanging shit, was still filled with the same unshakable devotion and longing as she’d seen before in both sets of their brown eyes. Nat saw both of them there now—not just Banner, not just Hulk—but Bruce now.

She took a moment and just breathed, trying hard to get her past and present feelings to line up. Not having that time in the middle to help her bridge the two was what made it a challenge, but Natasha Romanoff was still up to the task. It was a leap of faith, but she needed to understand what she’d missed before she could feel like she’d stuck the landing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed Peter’s visit. I am kind of sad that Bruce didn’t have a shout out in Far from Home, but at least Natasha did. I really believe Bruce and Peter would bond over science and missing Tony just like Peter did with Hap plus the science geekery. We got very little Science Bros in Endgame and just a bit in Infinity War, so it feels like one more thread the usual suspects mostly dropped and, thus, one more opportunity wasted for Cap’s ass-service.
> 
> I know Tony would have been there for Bruce, especially since Nat seemed to have abandoned him. Tony understood Bruce’s darker side and had a good understanding for when and how much to push him—even if that didn’t always work out. Bruce often took the abuse for Tony and he did not get the credit he deserved either, despite being the soul and the workhorse of the duo. I like the idea of Bruce being a hero on his own during that five-year gap without always being overshadowed, but I still think Tony would have been there for him. Too bad we got so little on the screen. See, I can keep the grousing short!
> 
> I don’t think Autumn_Froste and EmilyGrace13 saw much of this one, so it’s my bad if there are any mess-ups.
> 
> If you'd like to see the cover edits for each part, check out my Pinterest board or the Brutasha Nation or Hulk & Associates page on Facebook. This one includes a Natasha edit, Spider Son, and more of the fluffy doggo.
> 
> Comments, questions, and commiseration are always welcome! Please give a like, a follow, a kudo, a review, a share, a tweet, and tell your friends to give it a read!
> 
> Next up: Part 14: Palaver. Natasha and Bruce sit down and have the discussion she’s been wanting and he’s been fretting over.


	14. Part 14: Palaver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha and Bruce talk about his integration process, and they Skype with one of his physicians.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s still the afternoon of Monday, October 30, 2023.

Natasha and Bruce stood there on the driveway in front of the old mill building that he’d gutted and reworked into lab space a little over four and half years ago. Peter had just left after a productive afternoon of talking science with Bruce and looking at several legacy projects Tony had left in various stages of development that were stored in the next-door warehouse. Science Bros was still ongoing strong in spirit.

Natasha had just returned from her walk into Bridgewater with her hair dyed back to her natural bright auburn red and a new cut that Bruce was admiring. She held his injured hand and continued to wondered how the man in front of her had emerged from the two different personas she knew and loved.

“I’m not kidding, I like the new style. It’s one I’ve not seen on you before,” Bruce noted, and she turned around in a dance spin, still holding his hand, so he could get a complete view.

“Thank you! I enjoyed meeting people outside the usual bubble, too. I can see why you like it here.”

“It’s a slower pace, a smaller scale, but it grows on you if you’ll let it,” he said with one eyebrow cocked.

“Like moss?” Nat joked just to goad him.

“Like a lot of things once you get used to them.” He really hoped that was true in his case as well as the town’s.

She had to laugh. Here he was with that disarming sincerity she remembered. He was trying so hard and not attempting to hide how much he cared. Natasha looked up at his strong handsome face. She noted how his voice naturally hit lower and more resonant tones now, yet it was recognizably still his. “I need you to walk me through what I missed, Bruce. I want to get this. I want to be a part of it.”

He’d taken off his glasses and he took a moment to use a cleaning cloth on them before placing them in his breast pocket. “Do you really want to open up that can of worms? I’ve already had to call Lee twice today.” He was making light of it, but Natasha knew this was sensitive territory. She’d been half prepared for him to pivot into one of his rather prickly zingers as he sometimes did in the past, but he didn’t seem to use that line of verbal defense so much now, despite her pushing him. She missed it a bit, but she couldn’t let him playfully beg off either, not if she was going to reconcile some of her emotions over not being there for him.

“Humor me, Bruce. This was supposed to have been a process I helped you both through. I wanted to do that.” She looked him steadily in his familiar brown eyes. “No judgments, Love. Share what you’re comfortable with me knowing. I’ll quit bugging you after that, but I really need to know what you went through and what you were thinking.”

“It doesn’t bother me to discuss it with you, Nat. Let’s walk over by the river and sit down. Sirius will find us if he needs us.” He led her around the building and down a gravel path that soon opened up with a beautiful view of a meadow on the opposite bank and the flowing water of the Hendrix River and the rocks below and between. The path paralleled the water and ran roughly south past the backside of the renovated buildings, but soon they came on another much smaller structure, which turned out to be an octagonal timber hut with a wooden shake roof and open sides.

“You did say you had a gazebo, right?” she asked, unsure what this was.

“We have a gazebo back in the garden. This is actually a palaver hut.”

“A what?”

“‘Palaver’ means ‘to talk,’ so this is usually where I come to Skype with Lee, weather permitting. He calls his gazebo in their backyard a ‘meditation hut’—like he gets any meditation done with the kids there,” Bruce chuckled. “Anyway, it’s just kind of a joke between us is all. It’s nicer to sit in than a ‘man cave,’ and I already have a pretty enviable working garage. I like the quiet here. This is whatever you want to call it, Nat.”

She stepped inside and looked around at the solidly designed cedar framing. “It’s a nice open-air, wooden hut with a really good yoga mat and plenty of bench space,” Natasha decided. There were plenty of cushions, too.

“And a sound system and good WIFI,” Bruce added. He sat down cross-legged on one side of the thick mat. He kept on his fleece, but pulled out his shirttail and stretched his back and shoulders again. She thought he looked quite comfortable here and wondered if the stretching was a habit he’d carried over because of the chronic pain Hulk had experienced or a new habit he’d picked up. Somehow, Bruce looked very powerful and very Zen all at once. Again, she was reminded of a resting lion or perhaps a dragon or other mythical beast. She playfully grabbed him around the neck from behind and hugged him, sliding over his good shoulder and landing smoothly in his arms. Bruce held her close and soon they were kissing. He supported her back and neck with his injured hand as she placed hers on both sides of his face and guided him into a better angle. His lips had the right balance of softness and strength against hers. Nat recognized the enjoyable tension between them was still there, and she gave him a playful nip right where the freckle was, near the center of his lower lip.

To her delight, Bruce nestled his face into the hollow of her neck and shoulder then gently applied pressure with his mouth to the tense muscles at the base of her neck to relax her. It had been one of his signature moves that she’d never had anyone else do. “Oh, yah. I’m so glad you remember how to do this. I think you’re even better at it now.”

Bruce released the pressure point and kissed her higher on her neck. “I bet I’m still pretty good with massaging feet, too.” He thought he’d wait till they were on a couch to confirm that. “I have had such daydreams of making love to you here.” He leaned back and rested his elbow on a bench, and she could see he was blushing again even as he lounged. Nat decided she liked this new tell he’d developed. The tips of his ears were very pink. “I suppose we can explore that fantasy on a warmer day.” Nat moved so she could sit in front of him on the mat and face him comfortably, and Bruce straightened up again. “A lot of what happened to reconcile my identities started right here just figuring out how to listen to each other. We tried writing on the dry-erase board in the big lab, then typing, and later a similar holographic program to accommodate the big, clunky fingers,” he waved them on his right hand playfully for emphasis, “but once we got to trusting each other, we were eventually able to start occupying some of the same mental space.”

“You could hear each other?”

“Not at first, it was really difficult because the mental and physical components of each of us were so closely wired in both identities, we couldn’t tease the connects apart. Trying to occupy that same mental space in either physical form was so difficult that we had to come up with a neutral place, a body that could accommodate us both. Otherwise, it was like forcing the wrong ends of magnets together—all they did was repel and push us mentally further apart till I thought, ‘Why not try to physically meet each other halfway?’ We wrote notes and did videos back and forth and figured that was worth a try.”

Nat shifted so her left knee was bent and raised, and she could hug it a bit. “How did you do that?” she asked, trying to imagine how they could have held the transformation process in an in-between state. She’d seen their shifts happen both ways many times, so she knew how painful the liminal state between their forms was, even when they completely cooperated and tried to relax. It was always painful and sometimes violent for both of them whether expanding or compressing all that mass. It dawned on her that the Banner half always seemed to live in fear while the Hulk half always lived with the resulting pain.

He shrugged. “How? Months of trial and error—most of it physically and mentally painful and exhausting for both of us. I actually built this structure because I knocked out a wall in the new Safe Lab that summer when I passed out and fell. Scared the shit out of Gordy when he found me, even after Friday had notified him. He nearly quit that first month.”

“You tried this all by yourself?” Part of her was horrified, yet she wasn’t that surprised he’d do what he could alone because he was always concerned about hurting others. She also understood that others made assumptions about his work based on the misinformation Ross had fabricated to blame Bruce for his own failures and ambitions.

“At first, yes. I was genuinely afraid I’d hurt or scare someone, so I kept it to just me and my interface’s version of Friday when no one else was around. There was still a bunch of construction and renovations going on at the time.”

“Not even Tony?” she asked.

“When I got a better handle on what we needed to do, I told Tony. He guilted the hell out of me for not calling him sooner or talking to him after the wedding, but I had to do the early part of it by myself. Lee helped me lay the groundwork inside and was always available when one of us needed to talk, but I couldn’t have him here until after the stabilization process for obvious reasons.”

Knowing that Lee had helped and Tony had been there for much of the process made her feel better, yet all the more remorseful at the same time. “Okay, I get it. Can you give me a timeframe for this?”

“I can look up the exact dates in my entries, but I was roughly four months into therapy when I first started talking to Tony about it. He’d been through therapy himself, and he’d worked with both halves of me,” Bruce explained and emphasized the internal balance with his open hands resting on his knees. “I think he was the best person for the job, especially with you out of the picture. I just couldn’t ask him until I felt ready.”

Something Natasha noticed as he spoke was how open and demonstrative Bruce had become with his hand movements when he had a point to make. Whereas before he had wrung his hands with nervous tension and held his emotions in check, now his gestures were expansive as he conveyed his passion and excitement or made a point. There was something really revealing about that shift from closed to open gestures and his level of expression. She nodded her agreement. “I can’t think of anyone better qualified to work with you, especially after he’d helped Pepper through her Extremis issues. But, yeah, at the same time, he and Pepper had earned their space.” She’d ask about the wedding later: one more thing she’d missed, which was now going to be wrenching. Nat was just glad she and Tony had patched things up before she’d been attacked.

Bruce gave her a thumbs up, “Exactly, and he’s always ready to put the pedal to the metal in a heartbeat when he comes onboard. I had to be ready for that high of a gear before I asked him. Anyway, when he agreed to help, he was very supportive, and it didn’t take long for him to get up to speed with where I was in the discernment and planning process. He helped me collect some of the data we needed and define what the biological issue was and what we needed to do to at least improve if not fix the situation. I was able to isolate the variables after that.”

She bet Bruce hadn’t even noticed slipping between the present and the past tense. _Had it just been two weeks?_ Nat asked herself. Bruce grew silent until Natasha prompted him. “How did you manage to do it?”

“Sensory deprivation in the pool. It’s in the gymnasium section of the warehouse. I’ll show you later. I do some of my physical therapy and training there.”

“Really, like in _Altered States_?” she said with a cringe, thinking of the 80’s movie with William Hurt.

“Oh no! Nothing that extreme,” he said with a laugh since he was familiar with the film. “Believe me, Tony brought that up more than once! We just used a modified breathing apparatus in the lap pool where it was most convenient. Tony was there the whole time and Gordy was around for backup. The pressure from the water helped slow down the physical transformation a bit and made it less painful. I found the disconnection from some of the corporal sensations made it easier to focus mentally and occupy the same consciousness. It was a little like passing each other in a doorway. We couldn’t hold the physical middle ground for very long, but we were able to stretch out the internal mental time and finally have a real exchange if not exactly a dialogue. We were always working with a moving target, but we got data and finally established a closer connection. That seems so long ago now,” Bruce said wistfully. _Had it only been four and a half years?_ “We were able to do some lucid dreaming, too, which was pretty trippy.”

“What did you finally talk about?” Natasha asked out of curiosity.

Bruce smiled broadly, “That’s the amazing part! As soon as we were in the same mental space, we both shared memories. It wasn’t like when an alter offers up his secret and simply merges. We both remembered everything . . . I don’t know how to describe it exactly, but it was like experiencing a lifetime from twin perspectives. It all just popped like when you turn on a light or . . . in a theater when you go from black and white to color or look through 3D glasses and see in three dimensions for the first time.” Bruce’s delight was palpable as he spoke using his hands. “Imagine that with all your senses and all your memories at once. It’s just—WOW! It felt wonderful and exciting and perfect, but we couldn’t hold it for more than twenty to thirty seconds before it was gone and one form or another took over. We both felt half empty without the other after that. It just ached!”

“That’s when you decided on the physical merger as your best option?”

“That’s when we knew it was the right direction to go. It worked out that the Banner part was more mentally flexible and tolerant of the physical changes than the Hulk part.” He reached out with his good hand and gently stroked the back of his fingers down the right side of her face, and she caught and held his hand. “Believe me, Natasha, if I could have put all of me in my original body, I would have done that. It would have been much simpler.” There was a catch in his voice as he continued. “I’d have given up on the big, green monster and hero part, but it simply wasn’t possible to be fair or make peace that way. Hulk was willing, but it just couldn’t be done. I’m sorry. I don’t think it would have come out differently if you’d been here with us.”

What he didn’t say was that Hulk had traded in being “the strongest” for being free of the pain and participating in the world while Banner had simply wanted to be whole and fair and at peace with all of himself. Both wanted to keep everyone else safe from their potential volatility and violence. They’d wanted to lighten their ledger together, too, and harness that potential in a positive way. “We both did our best, Tasha. This wasn’t a sabotage or self-wounding.”

“I wouldn’t have asked either part of you to have done otherwise,” she said and the tears finally came. She still felt like someone or something had died. It ached so much and so deeply. She had accepted and loved Bruce as he was—flaws and all. They’d respected, trusted, and loved each other, balanced each other out. They had needed each other. Now, she was trying to find out if that all was still true.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you or leave you out.” Bruce knew some of her hopes were at least deferred if not dead, but he wanted to continue helping her resurrect and rebuild everything they could. “I’m sorry,” he said again.

“Don’t be sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for, Bruce.”

He glanced down at his damaged hand and flexed it. “Look, I know this isn’t what you pictured or had planned, but I still love and need you. I’m still me. We just couldn’t stay broken any longer. Please believe me, this is a better me for you to . . . I hope . . . for you to love.”

“I do love you, Bruce. You’re not the booby prize. I just needed to know the how and why to put my mind at ease. It’s really hard for me to let go of the guilt. You shouldn’t have had to do this on your own.”

He took her hands in his. “I love you so much for that. I promise, I’m okay. It worked out for the better because you’re here now, and I can love you without fear and with all of my being. That’s all I care about at the moment. I’m just so thankful you’re here with me.”

“And you’re finally whole. You’re really whole?”

“Yes. All my thoughts, all my feelings, all my memories are finally together,” Bruce reassured her.

“And both parts of you are okay with how things turned out?”

“Neither of us faded away. I was afraid of that happening, but we trusted each other and took the chance. We’re both here, and we’re not in pain like we were. The fear and anger are what faded. We’re so much better off and a hell of a lot healthier now.”

Nat sprang forward and hugged Bruce around the neck, and he wrapped his arms around her. “I’m so glad, Bruce, and I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you. If you want to see any of the videos or data, just ask Friday, and it’s all available to you. The science is pretty involved, but you’re welcomed to dig in, and I’ll go over it if you need me.” Bruce reached behind him and flipped one of the bench seats up to access a storage area. He pulled out a box of tissues for her.

Nat laughed, slid down into his lap, and wiped her tears. “You are suspiciously well-supplied with these, Doc. Maybe I’ll do that viewing another day. I only want to spend time with you now.”

“I’m off hero duty and on the disabled list until Helen and Shuri clear me, unless it’s something Rhodey, Wanda, Sam, or everyone else can’t handle. So, I’m all yours and maybe the dog’s, too, if he’d quit wandering off.”

“Good, he’s the only one I want to share you with and maybe the cat.” Natasha shifted to his contours, getting more familiar with how he moved and what was comfortable for both of them. She’d gotten very fond of resting her head on his shoulder or the crook of his neck when they sat outside like this at the Compound. The trees and the river had a different sound than when they sat on the bench on the dock at the lake. There it had been quiet except for the insects, frogs, and other wildlife. Here the rush of the flowing water was close and soothing, and the insects’ sounds weren’t so pronounced until you were at a greater distance from the water. The occasional vehicle on the highway was the only human intrusion.

Now, here she was in Bruce’s lap and resting in the crook of his injured arm with her head on his chest. Natasha listen to their two heartbeats almost sync up. Could she step back like he had and find something new? She imagined herself having Bruce here waiting for her when she came back from a mission; then, she considered retiring and staying here by his side and blending into the community. She thought about Clint trying to step away from the spy business and wondered how hard it might be for her. Nat looked up at Bruce. “I’m feeling like pizza. How about you? I know of a little place in town that comes highly recommended.”

He gave her an amused look. There was a pizza place across the street from Darla’s salon. “If it’s Sal’s, it does come very highly recommended. I’ll have Friday let him know what we’d like.”

“How about a table for two?” Natasha asked.

Bruce absolutely beamed at her suggestion. “Like a date, Ms. Romanoff?”

“This would be our second date, Dr. Banner,” she reminded him. They’d really only had the one away from the Compound after the Snap.

“Friday, see if Sal has that quiet table at the back open in about a half an hour?”

“Of course, Dr. Banner,” the Interface responded in its lilting voice. “Will 6:00pm do?”

“Perfect.” That would give them about 45 minutes to get the dog settled and them cleaned up.

~*~

Sirius finally showed back up when they were almost to the house. The dog happily left muddy paw prints on Bruce’s shirt, so after they got him cleaned up and ensconced in the kitchen, Bruce put on a clean t-shirt and selected a sweater from the mule chest. He brought out Shuri’s prosthetic device and laid it on the vanity, debating over whether or not to put it on.

“What’s that?” Natasha asked as she finished reapplying her makeup and fluffing her new haircut in the mirror.

“It’s easier to demonstrate than explain,” he said and slipped the prosthetic sleeve over his bare arm and under the t-shirt sleeve. Bruce used his Kimoyo Bead to activate it without the glove section on, and the device expanded to fill out the missing bulk then camouflaged to match his skin tone.

“Whoa! That is one impressive something alright!” she noted.

“It’s a multipurpose medical device and also a prosthetic. It’s sending data to Wakanda right now. We’ll see if Shuri is still up.” He flexed his arm through a full range of motion. It had to be back over 90% by now.

Natasha stepped closer and inspected his sheathed arm. The color and texture were closer to his skin than she’d thought possible. If it weren’t for the seams at his shoulder and wrist, she’d have been hard-pressed to spot it at three meters. If Shuri had incorporated S.H.I.E.L.D.’s veiling technology, it might have been perfect, but Nat kept that to herself. “This can’t be for just monitoring your progress and looking good for bikini season.”

He laughed heartily at that. “No. We’ve been trying different treatments to promote healing and make sure the grafting is working. I wore it quite a bit the first week till I realized how much I was probably relying on it for pain relief and not dealing with the psychological part.”

“What part would that be?”

“Like maybe getting used to the idea of being disabled or at least scarred and not being embarrassed about it. That’s why I was thinking of not wearing it this evening, but I need to put it on for the data and diagnostics. Also, I wanted to see if Shuri would Skype me, so I could tell her the good news,” he said with a knowing little smile at her.

Nat almost asked him what the “good news” was, but caught herself in time. Of course, she’d be Bruce’s good news. Duh! “I don’t want to delay the party, but does she have security clearance?”

“I think she’s at least the equivalent of a Level-5 like Peter for her scientific access and maybe higher for diplomatic reasons. High enough?”

“Okay, but shouldn’t her brother be told first?”

“You don’t think Fury has already contacted T’Challa?” Bruce asked.

“Good question.”

Bruce’s laptop on the desk back in the bedroom chimed, and Friday was next, “Beggin’ your pardon, Dr. Banner. Princess Shuri would like to Skype with you.”

“Play it by ear,” Nat advised. She followed him to the desk but stayed out of camera range.

Bruce sat down and opened up the laptop, “Hey, you’re up past your bedtime.”

“You’re late, Doctor, and my brother has been hint-dropping all afternoon about something big happening in your backyard.”

“All I have is a garden and a river in my backyard.”

“And an extremely ugly truck. Fine.” Shuri squinted at a console to her right. “Your arm is looking a lot better than your vehicle. The combined functionality score is at 87%. Range of motion is at 94%. The circulation looks excellent. No signs of graft rejection. Now, why haven’t you been wearing a perfectly good device?”

“Is it necessary to keep it on more than a few hours a day?”

“You are not answering my question, Bruce.”

He shot a quick look at Nat. “Because I’ve been a little busy today, and I took a swim in the lake at the Compound this morning.”

“And why were you swimming in that muddy, cold blast crater again?”

He held out his left hand for Natasha, and she slipped around the desk to join him as he hugged her close and she leaned back against him. “Because I found a lady at the bottom of the lake.”

On the monitor, Shuri instantly recognized Natasha and laughed aloud. “This is your good news! Natasha! How?! Were you unsnapped?”

“Not quite that simple, but I’m not sure how much I can say, Princess Shuri.”

“Drop the ‘Princess’ or I’ll call you ‘ma’am.’” Shuri studied Natasha’s image through the monitor, “Were you held prisoner or in hiding? You’re looking low on Vitamin D.”

Bruce glanced down, so he wouldn’t give anything away. Nat squeezed his hand. “Yes, on being held. I’m not sure how much I can say.”

“Understandable. I’m sure you’ve run a full diagnostic series, Bruce.”

“Yes, we’re waiting on the full toxicology report, but she’s doing remarkably well considering the circumstances.”

“Humph, not a hint? I’ll be working on my brother then. How long were you ‘unavailable,’ Natasha?”

“Since July 6 of 2018.”

“By Bast, you might as well have been dusted, too.”

“No,” Bruce said. “That was a pretty significant seven weeks.”

Natasha chuckled, “I won’t disagree.”

Shuri pretended to clear her throat. “Cough-cough! TMI! But, I’m so happy for you both! Nat, seriously, make him wear the prosthetic sleeve about six hours a day. He’s due for his third, and I hope, final surgery on Wednesday. Don’t nerf my data or your treatments before then.”

Natasha glanced up and over her shoulder at Bruce who was looking a bit remorseful. “I think I can handle him.”

“If you cut out the painkillers, I will keep it on,” he bargained.

Shuri used one of her Kimoyo Beads to project an image above her palm that appeared to be a graph, which she transferred to a window on Bruce’s laptop. “Look at the red line. You’ve not had anything to kill your pain stronger than aspirin—with the exception of during the procedures—since our first trip to see Helen.”

“Well-well,” Bruce noted as he squinted skeptically at the graph and adjusted his glasses. “Good to know.” He really was surprised. He’d assumed feeling such a low level of pain meant he was being medicated, not that he was healing up properly. It was a pleasant revelation.

“I think you’re suffering from relativism,” Shuri noted with an I-told-you-so little snort. “You were so thoroughly conditioned to chronic pain, you don’t know what its absence feels like. You have a ridiculously high threshold, Doctor. I suppose that came in handy with the Unsnapping?”

“It did hurt,” Bruce responded dryly.

Shuri chuckled, “Natasha, did you know Dr. Banner is an absolute masochist and horrible with puns?”

“He tells dad jokes, too,” Nat added.

“Hey,” Bruce objected. “I’m not that bad.”

“Well, as our tank, you can be a glutton for punishment.”

“But I don’t actively seek it out unless it’s necessary—not anymore. I don’t have that much to prove.”

“Sometimes you are a magnet for trouble because you’re such an obvious target. At least you seem to have kept handling it like a pro.” She stroked his thigh under the desk, and Bruce gave her another blushing smile. When the team disintegrated, he’d had no choice but to handle a lot of situations on his own. It had actually been a very positive experience. Before, he’d been feared and even hated, much of it earned, because of his dangerous unpredictability, but after Sakaar and three years of do-gooding and being the hero had greatly changed the public’s perception and his own. He still remembered her telling him, “Go be a hero!” in Sakovia before he left. It had taken them a while, but together they’d done it. He’d worked out a kind of “don’t ask, don’t arrest” deal with federal authorities to avoid dealing with Ross, but there was only an uneasy peace between them at the moment that could disappear like puff of smoke on the wind.

Bruce shook his head. “Gunslinger syndrome, I suppose,” he said with a little sigh. Hulk had always been the biggest and the baddest, so he was consistently the target for every wanna-be tough and bruiser. Likewise, Banner had often been a target as well on the intellectual side. He shot Shuri a quick glace and gave her a smirk, which she returned with a knowing laugh. She certainly wasn’t above a “gotcha” and a teasing, but he’d eventually given her back as good as she gave as they quickly became friends. She’d been quick to discern Tony was too sensitive of a topic and not needled him on certain subjects.

Natasha also knew exactly what he meant about gunslingers. “That’s what it’s like being at the top of the food chain—endless competition whether you want it or not.” That was a major part of her life during her Red Room training and afterward. The was always someone younger and faster with something to prove.

Shuri snorted—she’d seen enough of it, too—but she continued flipping through readouts and staring at them pensively for a few moments before she looked up again and spoke. “I’ve been talking to Helen about using a different technique on Wednesday as we discussed. Rather than opening you up like a filleted fish again, we’d like to try rebuilding this last series of layers with injectable bundles of muscle strands. I’ve been practicing with some modified nanobots on crippled rabbits with good results—minus the gamma radiation, of course. I suspect Helen is pretty jazzed about making you a pincushion.”

“She would be. That sounds like it would help resolve the contouring issues we discussed last time,” Bruce said as he rubbed his chin. “Are you planning on joining in the fun or is it just Helen?”

“Just Helen will be flying in, but I’ll join you via hologram if your lab equipment is up to it.”

“I updated my hardware just for you, Princess,” Bruce teased.

“Good. I was beginning to get concerned you couldn’t keep up. We’ll talk tomorrow before you go trick o’ treating.”

“3:00pm EST US,” Bruce confirmed.

“It’s a date.” Shuri looked at Natasha. “I hope you’re sticking around, Natasha, because he barely knows how to take care of himself.”

“I know. It’s shocking. I plan on staying and keeping him out of trouble,” she teased dryly.

“Good! Now go to dinner or something while I torture a little information out of my brother. Glad to see you’re back among the living!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may put Nat’s mind more at ease now that she has a better understanding of what happen with Bruce on the inside so they can move forward.  
> Autumn_Froste and EmilyGrace13 only saw a bit of this one, so it’s all on me if there are any mess-ups.  
> If you'd like to see the cover edits for each part, check out my Pinterest board or the Brutasha Nation or Hulk & Associates page on Facebook. This one includes a both a Bruce and a Natasha edit with a “palaver hut.”
> 
> Comments, questions, and commiseration are always welcome! Please give a like, a follow, a kudo, a review, a share, a tweet, and tell your friends to give it a read!
> 
> Next up: Part 15: It took five years, but our couple finally get a second date.


	15. Part 15: Public Spaces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Nat go on a date. It’s hard to keep a secret or stay anonymous in Bridgewater when you’re the local heroes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s the evening of Monday, October 30, 2023.

They took the HX into town and arrived right on the dot at Sal’s Pizzeria and Italian Cuisine, a bright storefront on Main Street, just across and down from Designs by Darla. The sun was indeed going down as Bruce ducked through the front door behind Natasha, and the owner greeted them cordially. The place was cozily warm and almost full, so they maneuvered to the back which had a draped archway that led to a smaller seating area with a few quieter tables away from the crowd. Several people greeted Bruce along the way, and he took a moment to introduce her to an older couple.

“Natasha, this is Gordon Lowell, my good right arm, and his wife Gigi,” Bruce explained.

“Just Gordy,” the seasoned technician said as he rose and shook Nat’s hand. “Pleased to meet you at last Ms. Romanoff. Dr. Banner has spoken of you very fondly.”

She noted he still had a solid grip and work-callused hands. His eyes were pale blue-gray and lively as he searched her face. “I’m sorry I’ve been this long overdue getting here to Bridgewater.”

Gigi looked a bit confused as she shook Natasha’s hand. “Were you blipped back, too, Ms. Romanoff?”

“Like Mark Twain said, ‘The rumors of my demise are greatly exaggerated,’” she paraphrased.

Gordy shot a look at Bruce who simply smiled. “It’s a very complicated story. We’ll talk tomorrow, okay?”

“Gotcha,” the older man said with a considering nod. He sat back down and patted his wife’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Miss. See you in the morning, Doc.” Gigi smiled and nodded, apparently willing to wait for an answer, too.

“My pleasure,” Nat said and followed Sal back to their corner table. She wasn’t surprised to see Bruce give his employee a grin and a nod of reassurance to the man’s questioning look then pat Mr. Lowell on the shoulder before following her. _Who’d have pegged Hulk for being so tactile and touchy-feely?_

“Here we are at your usual spot, Dr. Banner. Will this be all right?” the owner asked them as he pulled a chair back and offered it to Natasha. The other seat was oversized and obviously meant for Bruce.

“If we could shift a bit so the lady’s back is to the wall, that would be perfect, Sal.”

“Not a problem,” the restaurateur responded, and he and Bruce adjusted the seats so Natasha would have a clear view of the room and the door.

As Nat settled into her seat, she thanked Sal and then shared a chuckle with Bruce. “I’m surprised you remembered.”

“I want you to be comfortable, and I understand hypervigilance. Just don’t forget we’re having pizza in Bridgewater and not playing poker in Tombstone or Deadwood.” Bruce handed her a menu from the stack on the table.

“Or Budapest or Minsk,” she added. “I know, but I do appreciate the thought.” She scanned over the list of specialty pizzas and other entrees and appetizers. “What’s good?”

“The Caesar salad is a definite yes, and you could use the iron. I usually get the ‘Monster Wild Mushroom’ which has caramelized onions and arugula, but I could be persuaded.”

Nat snorted, “Then you really haven’t changed.” She had a lot of memories of Bruce snarfing down all the carbs he could get his hands on after a Code Green without seeming to care about the source or the calories. She studied him for a moment as he looked around and nodded or half waved to acknowledged the people he knew. He seemed very at ease, something she’d only seen in him on rare occasions as Banner.

“Well, what do you think of the place?” he asked.

“It has a nice atmosphere. Lots cheerier than our first date,” she noted, trying not to roll her eyes.

“I rather enjoyed our picnic,” he countered.

“I’m talking about before that.” Their first attempt at a date had been a few weeks after the Snap once Tony had arrived back. It had turned into an adventure when they couldn’t find a place to eat open short of driving into New York City. So, then it became a road trip through the countryside and a stop at a half-empty market at a crossroads to buy stale sandwiches and wine coolers. They found a roadside park and had an enjoyable time just talking and sharing their crusts with a chipmunk before they headed back since they’d not seen an open gas station. Their whole day had been a sobering reminder of the loss that had become the new reality for everyone, but they knew they loved each other, which was a good and life-affirming thing in the midst of the Desolation. So many things had kept them apart for so long that now nothing was going to separate them. They had mostly stayed close to the compound after that excursion until supply chains and transportation had started to function again, and then their friends had headed their separate ways, but not them, not yet.

Bruce’s warm hand on her knee brought Natasha back to the present. “Everything has gotten so much better since then, Nat.”

She nodded, “You’re right.”

A blondish waitress in her early twenties wearing a red Sal’s polo shirt stepped up with a carafe of ice water and two glasses, which she set on the table and poured full as she introduced herself. “Hi again, Dr. Banner and hello, Ms. Romanoff. I’m Henley, your lucky server for the evening.” There was just a little snark and a bit of familiarity there. Natasha wasn’t certain how, but half the town seemed to already know her or at least who she was. She suspected Bruce wasn’t solely responsible.

“Hey, Henley,” Bruce returned warmly. “How’s college going?”

“Crazy, but I’m not complaining. I got a 95% on my first Chemistry II quiz.”

“Excellent!” That got a fist bump and a proud smile from Bruce.

Henley leaned in conspiratorially as she continued. “I should warn you before I take a drink order that the table of ladies up front is going to send back a pitcher of beer if you get pizza or a bottle of wine if you get pasta or something.”

Natasha did her best not to look immediately around Henley’s shoulder. “Hulkies?” she asked.

“You didn’t hear that from me,” the server said in a low voice.

Bruce shook his head. “Well, free beer or not? It’s easier to say thank you and let them take a selfie than to turn it down and be ambushed in the parking lot.”

“Free beer it is then,” Nat answered.

“Okay, that was easy,” Henley said. “Do you know what kind of pizza you’d like to order?”

Bruce looked at Natasha who answered, “How about your favorite Monster Wild Mushroom with some added-on Canadian bacon?”

“Sounds good to me. We’ll do the Family Caesar for me and a regular-size one for Ms. Romanoff,” he instructed.

“Great! I’ll be back with your focaccia and drinks.”

As Henley left, Nat took a discreet look around Bruce’s right shoulder at the array of people seated in the larger part of the restaurant. “Does the local high school have a softball team?”

“Yes, and so does Covington County Community College, but their seasons are in the spring. Why?”

“I was just reading some shirts.”

“Are the Cougars here?” he asked and turned around to see what she was talking about. Bruce scanned the front tables for a moment and then waved before he turned back around. “That’s some of the coaching staff and faculty from Cov County.”

“People, you know?”

“Yah, I worked with some of them on the videos. Softball involves a lot of physics, so they helped out with a demonstration.”

She nodded. “That makes sense.” Nat studied some of the other crowded tables, but all of them looked either disinterested, too young, too old, or way too preoccupied with each other. Well, if they were buying beer, they couldn’t be younger than college age. That’s when she looked back at the table of other “cougars” and chuckled.

“Well, is it the three older ladies by the door?” Bruce asked.

“You’ll have to ask, Henley.” Like magic, the college student had reappeared balancing a pitcher of beer, two sizes of mugs, and a breadbasket. “Compliments of the Greenbriers,” she said as she poured the drinks. “At least you won’t have to pose for a picture or something.”

“They’re our neighbors,” Bruce explained. “Jean and Gretchen are retired elementary school teachers and Karen is an artist. Gretchen was snapped, so I just met her a week ago. They live further down River Run.” Natasha and Bruce held up their mugs in salute and the retirees returned it with their wine glasses. “I’m sure they’ll come over and say hello before long. They helped me win over the Bridgewater City Council when I worked out the deal for the property. Karen created the stained-glass artwork for the front door, too.”

Natasha nodded, “Wow, I’m impressed already. Is stained glass her primary medium?”

“It’s not her only medium. You’ll have to take a look at the local artists’ gallery down the street. I know she has several things there.” Bruce offered Natasha the breadbasket full of warm focaccia and she took a piece. He took one and poured a small puddle of dark, fruity-smelling olive oil on her bread plate and his before he and soaked up a bit. Bruce chewed the bread slowly before taking a sip of beer. “If you honestly want to see some Hulkies, the two that just came in after gawking in the window for several minutes would likely fit the bill.”

Nat had already noticed them the first time they paused at the door and chickened out. They hardly looked to be in their 20s. “Hulkies are that young?”

He snorted. “They are a pretty broad demographic. We’ll know when footage of us turns up on the Internet.” He slid the breadbasket her direction again. Natasha took another piece, tore it in two, and playfully shoved half of it in his mouth.

“That should do it,” she said with a laugh. “You’re pretty cute clickbait.”

“That’s not what ‘clickbait’ is,” Bruce teased back. He chewed and swallowed the bread down with another drink of beer, and there was an audible ping coming from the phone. He stopped his hand halfway to his pocket. He was used to being alone and leaving his notifications on. “Want me to ignore it?”

“You seriously follow your own hashtags?” Nat asked.

“Not really, but Friday monitors them. It would drive me nuts. I think that was my private email.” Then there was a second ping and quickly two more.

“Maybe you should . . .”

Bruce rolled his eyes as his phone rang and vibrated. “Sorry, I should have shut it off.”

“Answer it,” she told him. “It might really be important.”

Bruce fished the phone out and looked at the screen. “It’s Happy. Let me go ahead and take it. I was going to call him and Pepper later anyway.” Bruce genuinely looked concerned as he answered. “Hey, Hap, what’s going on?” Natasha could hear most of what Hap was saying, even over the restaurant’s hum, because Hap was loud when he was excited. She definitely heard her name. Bruce held the phone further away from his ear and grimaced a bit. “She’s right here if you’d like to speak to her.” 

Natasha took his oversized device. It was almost as big as a StarkPad mini. “Hi, Happy.”

“What is your favorite dessert?”

“Anything with chocolate that’s not on fire.”

“Okay, fair enough,” Happy replied. There had been a crepe incident when they all live in the tower, which no one involved had forgotten and Tony was never the wiser about. “I knew something was up since way back at the wedding when whoever that was wouldn’t dance with Bruce.” Nat flinched. This wasn’t something she wanted to get into over the phone. Hap continued, “Anyway, Pepper was putting Morgan in the bath when I saw Instasnap light up.”

“Really, what did you see?” she asked.

“You’ve broken 25,243 hearts so far but more people than that think you’re only friends or secretly married to Clint and Steve . . . maybe both.”

Nat rolled her eyes. “Eww. No way. Are there pictures or something?”

“Are you eating at Sal’s Restaurant in Bridgewater?” Hap asked.

“Yes,” Nat confirmed, “we’re at one of the back tables waiting on our pizza order.”

“I see you are drinking beer and that you were walking that big black pooch of Bruce’s earlier today. Nice haircut, by the way.”

“Thanks. What are the hashtags?” she asked.

“Just look up what’s trending. #mysterywoman #unknownredhead #hulkdate for starters.”

“Anything under my name yet?”

“#blackwidow is just now being linked to them, so someone has put it together.”

“I’m really sorry, Nat,” Bruce said a little forlornly. “I had no idea it would happen this fast.”

“I’m the one who asked you out, and we knew it was just a matter of time,” she told him and patted his hand. “Hap, can we call you and Pep later? I want to check security, okay?”

“Yah, Nat. I’m all for that. I don’t see anything from other places turning up so far, just Bridgewater.”

“Good. Later.” Natasha closed the link and handed Bruce back his phone. “Marsha and Darla said you were a celebrity. I should have believed them, Mr. Humble.” She leaned over and punched him playfully in his good shoulder then imagined the snapshot and the hashtags: #abusiveredhead #hulkbeater.

“It’s really not a big deal, Nat.” He sighed, “I guess it was a bit of an ego boost at first, and I’ve not exactly tried to discourage it. I do know from watching Tony that you can’t really control much, even if you do try, so I just keep exposure to a minimum. Saves money on a publicist.”

She thought he looked a little forlorn. God knows he’d earned a little of the public’s love and adoration even before the Hulk Snap. He and she both had that perpetual desire to make good on their debts. “You never did try to date, did you?” she asked.

“No, not even after things were over with the fake. Tony tried to play matchmaker there for a few months until Pepper put her foot down and made him lay off.”

“What happened at the wedding?” Natasha sincerely wanted to know.

Bruce ran his hands down his face and blew out a breath before he answered. “The bunch of us stood up with Tony and Pepper—minus Steve and Clint—and there was a band at the reception. Tony and Thor kind of pushed me and the fake Nat onto the middle of the dance floor, thinking it would help things, but she just walked out and left me standing there when I asked her to dance with me.” He laughed humorlessly. “Valkyrie had been over by the punch bowl hitting it off with Carol at the time, but she saw it happen and stepped right up without hesitating and asked me to dance. I know Brunnhilde had never Earth slow danced in her life, but she let me teach her as we went. That’s a friend, a good friend who’ll do that for you at one of the worst moments of your life.”

“Wow, no wonder Happy remembered it.” She was pretty sure anyone there would have, and she was in doubt that Bruce had gotten completely over it, no matter what he might say.

“Kind of humiliating at the time, but at least we know why now. Luckily, the press wasn’t invited and the formal shots were the only ones published or posted. The Devastation kind of took some wind out of all the gossip publications’ sails for a year or so.” Bruce tore up a piece of bread he didn’t remember taking and left it soaking in the last of the olive oil on his bread plate. “Now, Brunnhilde isn’t too fond of the combined me because she says she liked us both better separately. I guess she doesn’t see much Hulk in me anymore. We were a lot closer for those two years on Sakaar, but we do keep in touch.” 

“You’re really making me regret that I’ve never met her,” Natasha admitted.

Bruce literally did a facepalm. “Damn, that’s right! The Asgardians didn’t arrive until after you were attacked. I think you’ll like her, but we’ll have to go to New Asgard since she’s pretty preoccupied with running the place.”

“Well, if she can put up with you both and Thor as friends, she’s okay in my book, even if she doesn’t appreciate your combined charms yet,” Nat said with a chuckle, and she squeezed his hand again as they looked at each other. When they looked away, it was because Henley cleared her throat as she set down their bowls of Caesar salad.

“Sorry, that took so long. Sal just caught the newest bus guy in back posting pictures of you on Instasnap. They were pretty blurry, but Sal made him take them down. Would you like some shaved parmesan, Ms. Romanoff?”

“Sure. He didn’t get fired, did he?” Nat asked.

“No, but he’s in trouble. Doc, I know you like parmesan,” Henley said and liberally covered the top of his oversized bowl of dressed romaine with shavings.

Suddenly, Natasha had a wicked idea. “Henley,” she asked, “would you take our picture?”

“Sure! Let me put the cheese down.” Bruce looked at Natasha with surprise, but he quickly put his arm around her and handed Henley his camera. “Say, cheeeeeze!” Henley said. They both laughed as she took their picture a couple of times.

After Henley retreated, Bruce asked, “What are you up to, Ms. Romanoff?” She was furiously doing something on his phone, but he had no idea what. Well, he could guess.

“I just sent a picture to Happy and told him to hashtag away, and I posted it on your linked social media accounts.”

“Fury is going to be pissed, but I suppose we’re the ones who have to deal with it. I’ll agree it’s better to put our own spin on things. Make it my profile picture if you want,” he suggested.

“This is a good one. I think I will,” she said resolutely. She quickly checked and found her own accounts were still there yet had remained untouched while she was gone. “I guess Skrulls don’t do social media.”

Bruce laughed at that. “The fake really wasn’t into it. I’m okay if you want to post I’m ‘in a relationship,’” Bruce proposed.

Nat grinned up at him. “Done!” she said and leaned closer to show him the screen then switched over to her account and indicated the same on hers.

He chuckled, “That is a good shot.” Bruce picked up a couple of menus and fanned them in his right hand, so they’d have a little privacy. To his surprise, Nat took the laminated sheets and laid them back on the table.

“I love you and I don’t want to keep that a secret or even be coy about it.” She half rose out of her seat and kissed him on the lips. Bruce relaxed into it, feeling euphoric and more than a little proud to be with her. Sliding back into behaviors that were normal and familiar felt so good. They didn’t stop their public display of affection until someone whistled and started clapping and more joined in. When they couldn’t ignore it, that got them both laughing. As they turned back to the rest of the room, several people were on their feet and everyone was watching them.

“It’s about time!” someone called from the front and everyone laughed. It was like an open secret had just been made public, and the tension in the room had burst like a bubble.

Sal stepped forward. “I think I speak for everyone here when I say, welcome to Bridgewater, Ms. Romanoff. This will embarrass him, but we think of Dr. Banner as our own, so we’re really happy to have you finally here, too. Welcome!” There were more claps and a few whoops.

“Kiss him again! I wanna picture,” someone shouted.

Bruce looked at Nat, and she saw he was indeed blushing beneath his verdant skin tones. Had Hulk been like this all along since she’d known him, but his darker complexion had just hidden it? She reached up and took his face in her hands and tilted her head so their lips met at a good angle. It was a little more chaste than before, but it was still a nice kiss. They touched foreheads after it was over, lingering in the moment. Natasha sat back down in her seat, and a few people came over and Bruce introduced them. She was surprised at how many people he’d made connections with through charity work. He got to the Greenbriers last, and Karen, the artist, kissed him on the cheek. “I’m so happy for you two,” she told Natasha and squeezed her hand. “Bruce is a good neighbor. I lost my partner a little over ten years ago, so we commiserated every now and then over the fence or a cup of coffee. I’m glad you made it here.” There was a bit of a protective “What kept you so long?” implied in her tone.

“Thank you,” Natasha said. She was a little hesitant to say more since she wasn’t sure how much of an explanation would be safe to give the older woman, yet Nat wanted to put her concerns to rest. “I would have been here sooner, but it wasn’t possible. I’m grateful he found so much support in Bridgewater.” That seemed to take away some of the skepticism from Karen’s appraising look. “Bruce said you created the glass artwork for the front door. It’s beautiful!”

“Well, I put the pieces together, but Bruce helped design it, and we both had fun melting down and shaping the glass in my studio.”

Natasha nudged Bruce. “I had no idea you were that artistic.”

“I really didn’t do that much,” he protested. “Karen is the genuine fount of creativity.”

“Nonsense. You have an exceptional eye for composition. He’s a very patient model, too,” Karen added with a wink. “You’ll have to drop by the Main Street Gallery and see.”

Nat looked at him and Bruce shrugged. “I definitely plan to.” Now, she wondered how far this collaboration dated back and which version of him had done the posing. Maybe they’d go see if the place was open after dinner.

After that, the restaurant quieted back down, and they enjoyed their meal in peace. Nat couldn’t avoid scanning the place every so often without even thinking about it, but Bruce took up the rest of her attention that wasn’t spent on getting the salad and then the pizza into her mouth.

Her mind and senses were still taking him in and trying to resolve her old understanding of both parts of him with the new. Natasha reasoned that he had to be doing the same internal dance with his perceptions of her, plus he was having to separate out the five years of experiences from the Skrull’s impersonation.

Between bites of mushroom pizza, Natasha imagined sitting back to back with him and dumping all their information about each other in two heaps like photographs on a table before sorting the pictures of their memories into smaller piles and then rearranging them to try and make some order of their new reality. It helped to envision organizing a process whether or not it was possible.

Natasha wondered, would Bruce ever be able to cull out what the Skrull had put him through from all her own past offenses and missteps and manage to trust her again? She’d worked so hard to peel back her layers of protection and set aside the innate dishonesty that came with her profession in order to let him in and earn his . . . no, _their_ trust. Bruce had been the one person who’d always recognized the half-truths and easy lies that passed her lips from their first meeting in Kolkata onward. “Just the two of us?” he’d asked her. At some point after the Battle of New York, she’d quit trying to pull anything substantial on him because he was so skilled at reading her. Somehow, she managed a natural shift over to gentle teasing and flirting with him after that, which in turn opened a whole new level for connecting with each other as together they worked out the Lullaby.

As she studied him between bites, Bruce stole his own thoughtful glances before focusing on her. “One of the things I’ve always loved about you, Nat, is how intensely focused you are when there’s a problem to solve,” Bruce said in a low voice. “Anything I can help you with?”

 _Shit_ , she thought. “So, what’s my tell?”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “First, you went quiet. Since then, you’ve been tapping your foot against mine for about ten minutes, so I know you’re agitated. There are a few other things, but I’m not going to say anything more here.”

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to step on you. I was just thinking about sorting through memories, wondering what to keep, what to rearrange now.”

“Keep them all. I don’t recommend purging them unless they’re really bad.”

“They’re not bad, it’s just hard to get them worked together cohesively,” she admitted.

“Cohesion is overrated, but I understand the need. Sometimes you just have to trust that the messiness can be worked through if you give it time.” Bruce sincerely hoped she’d do that with him.

Natasha acknowledged his point with a nod. “Logically, I know that makes sense. It’s just hard to know where to start.”

“Then don’t start yet. I know we both love to fix things, but we’re not even sure exactly what’s broken yet. Just let the issues float for a moment. Be in the now, here with me. We’ll figure it out.”

Nat took a deep breath and nodded. “Can I ask you something that’s been worrying me?”

“Of course, Nat.”

“At what point did you give up on the fake Natasha? Was what happened at the wedding the breaking point or was it later?”

“That really depends on what you mean by ‘breaking point.’ I knew after a month of the runaround that I was going to be on my own with the integration process because it really didn’t appear to matter to the fake what I did. What happened at the wedding reception pretty much confirmed that. I don’t know. I distanced myself when I had to, but I never really gave up on the idea of us eventually being together again. I thought she’d change her mind if I stayed steady and waited for her, but when she finally brought the claws out, I knew something deeper was wrong. I thought it was mental illness. In hindsight, I should have done more questioning and investigating. I’m so sorry I didn’t.”

“Bruce, you know it’s just as well you didn’t. I don’t know what I would have done in the Skrull’s place, but at best, if you found me, we might have had a good five years, and the same thing might have happened to me this time.”

The physicist gave a humorless chuckle. “I’ll admit that I kept fantasizing about how it would have played out if I’d taken Clint’s place and gone to Vormir with her. I kept telling myself that I would have saved her, but the thing is she didn’t love me, and Clint said you had to sacrifice someone you loved. It might not have worked at all.”

“Then how did it work with Clint? The only sacrifice was the Skrull’s. Clint didn’t make that choice or do the deed, right?”

“You’ll have to ask him to get the finer details, but yes, they fought to go over the edge of a cliff and she won.”

“Listen, that doesn’t make sense. He didn’t do any sacrificing of the fake. The Skrull had agency and sacrificed them self,” Natasha pointed out.

Bruce half sighed, “I agree. I’m not sure why it worked. If it were a film or a book, I’d say it was pretty poorly written.”

“No shit!” Natasha said vehemently. “The other thing is, if Clint had won, doesn’t that mean the Skrull wouldn’t have sacrificed someone they loved either? The fake kept imprinting on me, gaining more knowledge and maybe deeper feelings, but did the Skrull really love Clint and his family the way I do?” There was something else there tickling at the edge of her memory. “You know, Bruce, I think the Skrull told me how bad he felt about the way he treated you and the more he imprinted, the harder it was as the emotional connections deepened. He paid an emotional price, too, but I’m not certain it would have worked.”

Bruce had been chewing on his last piece of pizza very slowly as he thought and weighed what Natasha had said. “Maybe it would have worked then, but something just doesn’t feel right about this. It seems so loosey-goosey, but I did not get that sort of feeling when I dealt with the Stones in the Gauntlet.” He wanted to talk to Stephen Strange, but he was a little reluctant to get back into the middle of things at the level the Sorcerer Supreme was operating of late. Tony had told him Strange said, “This was the only way,” before he’d been dusted on Titan. Strange had used the Eye of Agamoto with the Time Stone to find the one way to beat Thanos, snatching victory out of the cold jaws of defeat five years later. Had Strange been the only one engineering this complex scheme? Bruce was starting to doubt it. Tony said Strange looked into 14,000,605 futures. What did it take to make certain this one went right? It sounded like there might have been millions of variables and perhaps thousands of manipulations as well. Had the Skrull played his part and why had he sidelined Natasha? Were the manipulations continuing even now? The pain in Bruce’s right hand flared and he winced.

“Are you okay?” Nat asked with concern.

“It does this sometimes,” Bruce said as he flexed his hand and rubbed at the scars. “I’d swear it’s negative reinforcement.”

Natasha reached over and touched the back of his hand. “It’s hot,” she noted but didn’t withdraw her fingers before running them over all six scars to check. “Any idea why it does that, aside from bringing up certain powerful artifacts not to be named?”

“You already know I’m kind of a bio-battery for storing gamma radiation. Most of what the Stones put out is gamma rays, but that’s not what burned me when I used the Gauntlet. Once the Gauntlet was engaged, there was a whole array of other types of energy that none of the sensors in the room could completely identify—and that was right before Thanos’ bombs went off and we lost what wasn’t backed up offsite. I’m sure the Stones left me with more than just these marks as their calling card.”

“Do you mean the non-gamma energy is still there in you?”

“Yah, I think it might be what’s impairing my normal healing ability levels, but that’s just speculation on Helen and my part. Shuri disagrees. Between my dense structure and the energy’s elusiveness, we’re not quite sure what that something is. One thing’s for certain though, the pain gets annoying every so often and reminds me that something is still there. Shuri thinks we’ll find a good use for it soon and see if whatever is there can be siphoned off.”

Natasha suddenly put her hand to her mouth as an idea clicked into place. She grabbed his hand. “For Vision?” she asked in a low voice. “You’re going to use it to bring Vis back!”

Bruce almost laughed, pleased that she had managed the leap to that insight. “Never say that I don’t love you for your brain. Slow down though. Until we have a way of containing it, I’m not bringing it up with Wanda, okay? If we can pull it off, I can’t think of a better use for that cosmic energy than as a replacement power source for Vis. We’re close.”

“That would be beyond appropriate,” Nat agreed.

“I’d go as far as to call it poetic,” Bruce said.

They finished their dinner, paid the check, and said their thank yous and good-byes at the restaurant before taking a walk down Main Street. There were plenty of Halloween and harvest decorations and purple, green, and orange lights twinkling in most of the storefronts. A few shops were still open, including the gallery with Karen Greenbriar’s artworks. Again, Bruce had to duck through the doorway, but there was plenty of open space inside. He stood at the back admiring local pottery when he wasn’t surreptitiously watching Natasha study the bright watercolors and moodier pen and ink drawings and prints of both his personas displayed along an inner wall. After a good while, he approached her. “You’re awfully quiet, Nat. What do you think?”

“I think you looked like the world was on your shoulders. Were these all done during the first two or three years you were here?”

“Yes. Karen asked me to sit for her the first time I met her, but I didn’t have a chance till she Shanghaied me about a year later. She documented the last months of the separate Banner and Hulk with a ton of photographs. Looking back, that was pretty kind and forward-thinking of her. There’s an album of them at the house somewhere. I’m sure Vella knows where it is.” He pointed to a watercolor of his human-sized persona looking out an upper floor window when the renovations were still underway. “That one is based on a photograph, which was taken in the old master bedroom you found.”

“The light is beautiful. I remember those clothes and that guy in them. You look so thin there.”

“I was deep in the middle of everything, trying to get through the genetic coding and figure out what I did to alienate the fake. I’m pretty sure that’s right before I talked to Tony, so I wasn’t looking that gloomy for much longer.” He shrugged, “To be fair, Hulk never let me mope around for long.” She couldn’t keep from smiling as she looked up at him. “What?” he asked, wondering what had struck her as humorous.

“I’m just imaging Hulk as the big green cheerleader before your mashup,” she explained.

“Ah, yes, there’s some truth in that. I imagine Atlas was a pretty fun guy once the weight was off his shoulders, too,” he said wistfully. Bruce glanced down the row at the rest of Karen Greenbriar’s framed display. “Which one is your favorite?”

“I like the headshot print with just you as you are now in black and white.”

“Really?”

“It has kind of a Shepard Fairey-ish quality to it,” she explained

“Like Andre the Giant and ‘Obey’? I can see that.”

“Yes, a little. You have a very classic symmetry to your face and the simplicity of the black and white graphic style brings it out. What one do you like?”

“‘The Tie-dyed Sasquatch,’ I think.” Natasha gave him an incredulous look. “I’m not making a joke. That’s the title Karen picked.”

“That’s a blast from the past. I remember that ‘Green Sasquatch’ headline from Canadian newspapers right after the accident.”

“So did Karen,” he said. “She’s threatened to do t-shirts, but I’m kind of on enough of them as it is already.”

“I’d buy one,” she kidded. They looked through the other pieces in the Main Street Gallery and then continued their walk, circling back around through the Riverside Park at the end of the block. There was a stone railing to keep people from stepping off the steep bank. Bruce stopped and rested his elbows on top and Natasha stepped close so he put his right arm around her. It was cooler closer to the water so she snuggled into his warm side.

“This is nice. I get why you like it here,” Nat told him.

“I loved it before, but with you here, it’s almost perfect.” He bent down to kiss her and a camera flash went off from across the river. “Make that nearly almost perfect.”

“Don’t look up, just kiss me,” she said. “There’s no way they’ll get anything from that far away except a silhouette.” He kissed her gently and she ran her hands down his face. This, she could get used to doing.

As they paused before another kiss, the flash went off again from a different angle. “Hold onto me,” Bruce told her, and before she realized what he was doing, his good arm was around her and they were airborne. She got a quick look at a tall brunette in a puffy jacket standing on a well-lit walking bridge downstream before getting flashed again. Nat wasn’t sure if it was a man or woman as they soared above the buildings and she had a brief view of the town below from the top of the leap’s arc. They landed in a vacant lot, not far from where the HX was parked. Again, she was surprised at just how far Bruce’s athleticism had come in her absence. _Well_ , she told herself, _he’d had three years to practice, so why be so surprised he could stick a landing that easily?_

“Sorry,” Bruce said as he set her down. “I hate being stalked in the dark, public space or not. Normally, I walk right up and let them take one, so they get a good shot and I know they aren’t a psycho or something.”

“Give me a little more warning next time, okay?” She’d enjoyed the ride, but they needed to establish clear ground rules if this was going to happen on a regular basis. 

“Deal,” he said contritely. “I should have asked first.” 

“Just say, ‘Up, up, and away,’ or something, Big Guy. I don’t think the person was a psycho, but that was pretty bold of them. If it weren’t for the useless flash, I’d think it was a paparazzi.”

“Good point. I believe you’re right, a professional would have been sneakier, too. I’d have heard them if we weren’t preoccupied.” He ran his injured hand through his hair and turned to scan the area around them. There were plenty of people out strolling, enjoying the pleasant weather, and window shopping. There was music drifting down from a bar a street or two over. “Do you want to walk a different direction or call it a night and head back?”

“How about we head home, but don’t call it a night?” she suggested with an arch look.

He bit his lower lip even as he smiled—a response she remembered well from the first time he’d dropped the sarcasm and flirted back with her years ago. “Nothing would make me happier, Ms. Romanoff.”

“Good, let’s stick to the car this time, okay?” she teased him.

Bruce answered with a deep rumbling chuckle. “I could land us on the front lawn, but I’d rather do it in daylight.” 

“You sound like you’ve done that before.”

“You didn’t hear that from me, Ms. Romanoff.” 

“I better not,” she said, and took his hand as they made their way to the HX.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Autumn_Froste for the beta help.  
> Comments, questions, and commiseration are always welcome! Please give a like, a follow, a kudo, a review, a share, a tweet, and tell your friends to give it a read!  
> I’ve been able to post regularly on a weekly basis up to this point, but I’m going to need to take a break for the next two to three weeks to get an academic book chapter written and turned in for a collection of Harry Potter criticism. Once that draft is turned in, I will be back with the final five(?) chapters to finish our story here.  
> If you'd like to see the cover edits for each part, check out my Pinterest board or the Brutasha Nation or Hulk & Associates page on Facebook. This one includes a both a Bruce and a Natasha edit with a rendition of what one of Karen Greenbriar’s watercolors might be like.  
> Comments, questions, and commiseration are always welcome! Please give a like, a follow, a kudo, a review, and tell your friends to give it a read!  
> Next up in three weeks (I hope): Part 16: We go back to the house and find a friend waiting. There will be tea, cookies, and plenty of questions and a few answers.


	16. Part 16: Tea and Empathy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Natasha return home to find a friend waiting on the porch. They tap into Bruce’s supply of Girl Scout cookies, make a call across the galaxy, and later they answer one from closer to home. Yes, we earn our mature rating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays to those who celebrate! Here’s a nice big chapter for those who’ve waited.  
> It’s still the evening of Monday, October 30, 2023.

The last thing they’d expected to find was Dr. Stephen Strange waiting for them on the porch, but the Sorcerer Supreme was relaxing on the carved wooden swing with a gray cat on his lap as Bruce pulled up and parked the HX in its usual spot. 

“Dr. Strange,” Bruce said as he got out of the vehicle. Natasha didn’t hesitate to hop out of the passenger’s side door. She’d never met him, yet he looked exactly like the pictures she’d found when she researched him after Tony and Nebula had arrived back from Titan. She guessed the large gray cat that jumped out of the tall man’s lap must be Gertie.

“Dr. Banner . . . and Ms. Romanoff, I presume,” the magic-user returned in his deep baritone voice as he stood up. 

“You presume correctly,” she said as she joined Bruce. It was nice not to have her identity questioned from the get-go. The cat darted inside through the pet door, and Natasha caught Bruce huffing out a rather flummoxed breath through his nose.

“Stephen, good to see you. I assume you’ve already met, Gertrude. May I introduce you to Natasha Romanoff,” Bruce said, extending his right hand. “Nat, this is Stephen Strange, Earth’s Sorcerer Supreme,” he explained and mirrored the same open-handed gesture of introduction with his left hand.

“A pleasure,” the dark-haired physician said with a slightly amused smile. Natasha came forward and shook the hand he offered her as she stepped onto the porch with Bruce right behind her. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said. Nat noticed his hand was every bit as scarred as Bruce’s was and almost as warm, too. She’d read about the auto accident that ended his surgical career in his file.

“It’s good to finally meet you, Ms. Romanoff.” He held onto her hand a moment longer than necessary, and Nat knew he was scanning and scrutinizing her, so she stared steadily back into his intense blue eyes and matched his firm grip.

“She’s the real one,” Bruce assured the sorcerer as he used the tile pad to let them into the house. “Please come in and have some tea, Doctor.”

“I can’t stay for long, but tea sounds good,” the physician admitted and followed the couple through the mudroom and into the kitchen where Sirius greeted them with a low “Whoof!” as Bruce assured the dog the guest was welcome. Strange held out the back of his hand, and the overgrown pup gave it a brief sniff before backing off and circling Natasha protectively.

“Have a seat,” Bruce said and filled a copper kettle with water and placed it on the stove before reaching into the cabinet for cups and saucers. Natasha collected Bruce’s jacket and hung it up with hers on a peg near the door. She offered to hang up Strange’s cloak but he kept it draped over his shoulders as if he were still warding off a chill from the evening air.

“Darjeeling, oolong, green, herbal, some other kind of herbal, or Earl Grey?” Bruce asked as he checked through the containers on the cabinet where the loose-leaf teas had congregated.

With a mischievous smile, the sorcerer suggested, “Surprise me.”

“All right, but I doubt you came here for the tea, Stephen.”

Strange looked at both Bruce and Natasha, moving around each other with the ease of an experienced pit crew. “No, but I did come for the company and to compare a few notes on certain loose ends, which have turned out to be something more like an unraveling than a tying up of threads.”

Bruce sighed. “No neat dénouement for the Time Heist?”

“No, apparently not.” Strange studied Natasha who had found Bruce’s oversupply of Girl Scout Cookies in the pantry. Without missing a beat, Bruce handed her three small plates to go with the teacups and saucers he’d just set on the counter. The sorcerer was still marveling at how well they coordinated and in-tune they seemed, despite being separated for so long. “Please tell me you have the peanut butter ones dipped in chocolate,” he requested. Those had always been a weakness of his.

Natasha dispensed with formality and handed the physician an unopened box of his apparent favorites. She stacked half a box of Thin Mints on a plate for Bruce and pulled out a few butter cookies with chocolate backing for herself. She placed the opened boxes in the middle of the table since it might take the remainder to get through the conversation even if it was brief. Bruce passed her some spoons and napkins to lay out, too. The honey and sugar were already in the table’s center. None of them took cream with their tea.

Natasha sat down across the table from Strange whose back was to the mudroom door while Bruce stayed leaning against the higher section of counter, waiting for the kettle to boil. She’d missed seeing what type of tea he’d put into the stainless mesh ball, so it was going to be a surprise for her, too.

Strange cleared his throat as he slid the remainder of his box of cookies into the middle of the table with the others. “First, Ms. Romanoff . . .”

“Natasha, please.”

“Natasha, I’m very happy to see you are among the living. I spoke to Wanda earlier, and she passed along the good news. I’ve since communicated with Fury and Captain Danvers, so I have some information about your captor to pass along if you’d care to hear it.” 

“Of course,” Natasha affirmed. 

“Please do,” Bruce said with his burly arms folded across his chest. 

“As you’ve already surmised, your impersonator was indeed a Skrull, Natasha. The assumption was the Skrull was either from a different group that Earth hadn’t encountered before, one which split off during their diaspora, or perhaps he was some kind of a rogue agent. However, once Fury’s allies, the Skrulls under Talos’ leadership, compared cell samples collected from the craft in the lake to their database, it became evident that there was a connection.”

“So, Nat’s fake is related to some of Talos’ people?” Bruce asked.

Strange nodded, “Four of them to be exact.”

“I hope we’re talking siblings or cousins,” Bruce said with a frown.

Natasha cut to the other possibility, “Would they be grandparents?” 

Strange nodded toward Natasha in acknowledgment, “In a manner of speaking, you were dealing with a being who doesn’t exist yet.”

The kettle’s whistle gradually crescendoed to its full-throated high note as the implications sunk in. Bruce removed the kettle from the burner and turned the gas off. “Something tells me there’s a common thread between this issue and what’s been happening since the Time Heist. Clint told us there have been more paradoxes turning up.”

“Yes, more than just the ones we’ve been dealing with concerning the Sousa family. In that case, it does seem to come back to a certain individual.”

“Speaking of him, have you had a chance to sit down with Steve?” Bruce asked.

“We spoke about a week ago at a coffee shop in the Village, the day after he arrived (or reappeared?), but I can’t say that he was extremely helpful. We went over what he’d done and where he said he was for all that time he was absent from our reality, but there were discrepancies almost from the beginning. Before I came here, I stopped by his apartment in Brooklyn, but he doesn’t appear to have been there in some time if at all since Tony’s funeral.”

Bruce continued to frown. “I was hardly able to speak with him the day our Steve left and the old man arrived before that version left the Compound grounds. I asked if he understood the implications his little side junket might have for our timeline, and he clammed up tight. Sam and Bucky got in my face when I asked him again, so I thought it was better to back off before heavier things than words were flying. Do you think he’s skipped?”

Natasha was imagining Sam’s over-protective reaction and the possible outcome of a three-on-one fight with Bruce and the control it had taken on his part to avoid one. Even with those odds, a damaged arm, and a reluctance to harm the others, she’d have still put her money on Bruce. Nevertheless, the whole thing bothered her. She’d been at Peggy’s funeral, and Natasha knew just how much Peggy had meant to him. Natasha also remembered seeing Peggy’s husband Daniel there, not an older version of Steve. Selfishly throwing the rest of the universe into chaos and creating multiple splinters of the timeline—multiple conflicting realities—didn’t match up with Steve’s character or ethos at all.

The sorcerer shook his head. “I believe you were right not to press the matter, under those circumstances, Bruce.” Strange thought a moment before answering the physicist’s question, “If he’s still in our reality, it seems likely he’s gone underground. I’ve not been able to track him, and I suspect that’s because he’s not who he claims to be.”

“Or he’s found a way to cloak himself from a magical search since I imagine that’s what you’ve already done,” Natasha suggested. Strange nodded his confirmation. He’d used a hair from Steve’s apartment to weave a tracking spell, and the magic had completely failed. “Do you have any idea exactly what he did to affect the timeline?” she asked.

Strange tried to keep from rolling his eyes with frustration before he dove into his explanation. “It appears he created a parallel timeline in which he lived out his life with Peggy Carter and then renounced that reality after her death to return to our own long enough to drop off the older version of his shield to Colonel Wilson. I’m not completely certain why he felt so compelled to return it, except that he seems to have wanted to pass along his mantel to Sam.”

Bruce shook his head, feeling just as frustrated as the magic user. “Why would he want us to think he’d lived his past out in our timeline? Are you sure this really was our Steve?” the physicist asked. 

“Those are good questions,” the sorcerer stated.

“Was he human?” Natasha asked.

Strange shrugged the slightest bit. “That’s also a good question.”

“So, we really don’t know if this was our Steve, another version of Steve, or a Skrull or something else?” Bruce posited. He’d warmed up a large ceramic teapot and steeped the tea, so now he poured their three cups full and settled them on the saucers for the other two.

“Correct, and that also leaves us with the anomalies involving the Souzas’ background shifts and other exchanges or apparent ‘edits’ of digital footprints,” the physician noted and blew on the steaming tea in his cup. “Mmm, white tea, ginger, and . . . bergamot?”

“You’re good,” Bruce said and placed his larger-sized cup and saucer at the head of the table and sat down in his extra-sturdy seat between the other two. “Whether this was our Steve or not, I’d seriously like to know where he acquired the Pym particles necessary to do the extra hop back to our reality,” Bruce groused. 

“Although I couldn’t get him to say as much, I imagine he stole an extra vial or two when he returned the Space Stone,” Strange surmised.

Bruce nodded, “That’s the most likely explanation, but I’m amazed that didn’t sabotage the whole Time Heist. Damn, it likely created at least one more splinter.” The physicist clenched his jaws and then his right fist tightened. Now, he wished he’d thought faster, swallowed his pride, and called in Carol as soon as the old man had appeared on the lakeside bench. Things might have gotten messy, but they also might have had definitive answers to some of their questions. He felt Natasha’s hand on his left forearm and realized his frustrations were getting the better of him. Bruce relaxed his jaw muscles and quit grinding his teeth as he loosened his clenched fist, flexing his damaged hand.

“Is Carol the only one who can detect a Skrull?” Natasha asked as she reached for a jar of honey in the middle of the table. Strange flicked his finger to levitate the jar gently into her grasp and unscrewed the lid. She raised an eyebrow and smiled her thanks.

“Please tell us you’ve figured out some method of detection, Stephen,” Bruce said a bit forlornly.

Strange chuckled. “That actually brings me to another interesting piece of news,” he said and unfastened his cloak to expose a familiar artifact resting on his chest. 

The scar behind Bruce’s right thumb heated up even before he realized what was once again housed in the amulet. A green light flared behind the metal housing, making the connection unmistakable. “How did you get it back?”

“As you might know, Stark returned the broken amulet that housed the Time Stone to Master Wong who had it repaired and returned to the place it had previously been kept. Two days ago, the Time Stone reappeared in its housing. I and several others have been investigating this phenomenon since then.”

“How is this possible?” the scientist asked in disbelief. “Did Steve pocket it and bring it back?”

“I don’t think so. Our surveillance cameras would have detected that” the sorcerer noted. The couple both gave him slightly incredulous looks. “What? We’re not allowed to use both magic and technology?”

“You’re right. That makes perfect sense,” Natasha said. People were only human even if they were powerful magic users.

“What was on the recording?” Bruce asked, moving on with his inquiry.

“There was a green flash and the Stone manifested, once again whole and seated in the amulet just as it had been before.”

“You wouldn’t happen to have had a spectrometer nearby?” Bruce asked ruefully, wishing there had been more solid data collected.

Strange sighed, “No, but we can talk about adding one if you think that would be useful in the future.”

“I’ll start the paperwork for you myself,” Bruce offered. 

Natasha had grown quiet, her mind racing through possible scenarios and ramifications. “Is there any way to check for the presence of the other stones? If the Time Stone has returned, it must be possible for the others to do the same, right?”

The men looked at each other before Bruce spoke. “That’s why I wish we’d gotten an energy signature and a reading on the Time Stone’s manifestation; then, we might know what we need to look for with more specificity.”

“Don’t you have some of the data from the testing you and Tony and later Shuri did on the Space and Mind Stones?” she asked.

“You’re right. We have data on those two energy signatures, which leaves . . .”

“The Power, Reality, and Soul Stones,” Nat finished for him.

Strange held up his hand. “Perhaps another angle of inquiry that would help narrow a search would be to focus on the most likely places each Stone might manifest.” The couple looked at each other and nodded. Strange gave a little snort as he watched them telegraphing and ending each other’s thoughts. “Are you two sure you’ve been apart?” 

Bruce went a little pale and then flushed beneath his verdant complexion as he looked at her with adoration. Natasha simply smiled back at the sorcerer and patted Bruce’s muscular thigh beneath the table. “Now, Doctor, you’re sounding like Tony Stark, except he’d have said something more embarrassing, and Bruce would be blushing less.”

Bruce started to object but stopped himself. “True,” he admitted with a thoughtful nod. “Anyway, as you were saying, Stephen?”

“I think it would help facilitate our search if we looked in the other Stones’ last known locations,” Strange suggested.

“You mean before Thanos ‘acquired’ them,” Nat clarified. 

“And using them and destroying them,” Bruce added.

The sorcerer stroked his beard in thought. “Yes, and I believe I may know whom to ask for help with some of that. Bruce, can you still contact the _Benatar_?”

“That depends upon where they are and whether or not they’re using a jump port,” Bruce said. “Have you spoken to Fury about this? He may have better equipment and more contacts.”

“Fury already knows and is checking through his channels, but I suspect the Guardians and Thor might be closer to Nowhere, Morag, or the remains of Xandar and Asgard than Fury’s contacts.”

“I have the prototype communication linkup that Rocket and I first put together if you’ll give me a few minutes to set it up,” Bruce said.

“I can spare it, especially if it gives us some answers,” the physician responded.

“Back in a minute,” he said and stood up from the table. Sirius watched as his master disappeared out the back door and headed to the warehouse, but he stayed at Natasha’s feet.

“How about the Mind Stone?” Natasha asked. “Would Wanda be able to sense if it reappeared?”

“So far nothing,” Strange admitted. “She was the first person I contacted after returning from the Kamar-Taj.”

“And the next?”

“Wakanda.”

“To check on Vision?”

“Yes, but nothing new, no manifestation. His body is still an empty shell.”

“But Bruce, Shuri, and Helen are all working on it now,” Natasha said.

“That’s my understanding,” Strange said. “The last time I spoke with Bruce they were working on integrating the programming and data from different sources, but still searching for a power source to replace the Stone.”

“That’s my understanding, too,” she said, not wanting to get ahead of what Bruce may or may not have shared.

Sirius stirred and Bruce entered the kitchen with a reinforced metal case in hand, which he laid out on a clear spot in the middle of the kitchen floor and opened. “Give me a minute. This wasn’t designed for hands my size. Friday, bring the array online and prepare the reactor for a higher power demand.” 

“Already on it, Doctor Banner,” the Interface intoned brightly. 

The physicist tapped a tile in the wall next to the counter to expose a variety of ports and outlets. He’d looped a coil of cables over his shoulder, which he unrolled and attached to the outlets first before connecting it to the device. 

As Natasha rose from her seat, she looked at the open case that was unfolding onto the floor around itself to create a circular pad. She recognized some similarities to the diagnostic device at the medical facility from earlier in the day and the holographic communication array Bruce had designed for the Avengers Compound. She’d used it for almost a week to communicate with Okoye, Rocket, Rhodey, and Carol before the Skrull replaced her, but that device had been larger and less portable. Nat was certain this was the beta version of the machine, on which Bruce had kept tinkering after Rocket and he had designed it. Luckily, he kept it because the larger one was probably destroyed. “Do you need some help with the controls?” she asked.

“If you could flip the input lens up and handle the keypad, I’d appreciate it,” he said as he handed her a modified Stark-pad and pointed to a manual set of switches on the base that stood out from the sleeker parts of the design. “That should give control of the contact calculations over to Friday.” Nat did as he’d requested and adjusted the lens when it flipped into position. “Friday, engage please,” Bruce said.

“Aye, initiating. Doctor, whom would you like me to contact?” 

Strange caught himself before answering and Bruce grinned back. Having another degree holder in the kitchen was only slightly unusual. “Whoever is on the _Benatar_ —Rocket, Nebula, or Thor will do. I imagine we’ll be talking to all of them if this goes through.”

“Please, not Drax or Quill,” Strange said half under his breath.

The device hummed slightly and they waited a few moments. “Where is your antenna set up?” Natasha asked.

“The warehouse roof. It’s the one place flat enough and big enough to hold the communication array, the telescopes, and some other equipment. The local Historical Society would have thrown a fit if I’d stuck anything on top of the house.”

“And the reactor?” she asked as the pad in her hands began to display a map that looked like a detailed, three-dimensional star chart.

“It has a lab to itself. Why? Are you worried we’ll need more juice?” 

“Just thinking ahead to the Christmas lights,” she teased back. “Can I display this with the holographic projector in the device?”

“There should be an option for that in the dropdown menu at the upper left,” Bruce explained. She quickly had the images flashing into life in a gold column of light, and Strange moved around the table to get a closer look. 

“I’ve found them,” Friday said. “Do you want me to hail the _Benatar_?”

“Please,” Bruce said.

In a moment, they heard a crackling that quickly resolved as the channel cleared. “Awwww . . . Did ya miss me, Big Green?” Rocket Racoon’s voice asked as the golden image of the stars broke up and reformed into a life-size image of their friend that almost looked solid.

“Just the person I wanted to talk to,” Bruce said. 

The Guardian tilted his head and squinted. “Holy shhhh... .? Natasha?” Rocket sputtered as he recognized her. His fists went to his eyes and he wiped at them with disbelief before staring back again. “Nice haircut. What’s going on? This better not be a joke!”

“No joke. Long story,” she said, stepping further forward. “I lost about five years, but I did get to work with you for about a month and a half on the policing council we were setting up before I was grabbed.”

“Sweet sushi! Then who was I working with? Who died? Who said she wouldn’t let me in the kitchen anymore if I ate something out of the garbage can again?” 

Natasha looked at Bruce for direction, and he raised his eyebrows and gave her a small shrug. Strange nodded briefly when she looked at him. “It was a doppelganger, a double who was also a very talented spy,” she said.

“A Face Dancer or a Skrull?” Rocket asked.

“A Skrull. So, you’ve heard of them before?” she asked.

“Well, there aren’t a lot of them around since the Kree went all empire on them, but they are known for their shape-shifting talents. I’ve never heard of one doing it for a whole five Earth years though. That’s a hell of a commitment.”

“Natasha! I knew I heard your voice!” Thor rumbled as he came into the column’s projection field, pushing Rocket a bit to the side as the little technician protested and held his nose.

“Thor?” Natasha asked, sounding quite puzzled by his shaggy and fleshy appearance in exercise shorts and a tank top.

“Damn, I meant to tell you about him,” Bruce whispered apologetically. “He got very depressed.”

“Sorcerer Strange, do we have you to thank for her resurrection?” the Asgardian asked.

Bruce and Stephen looked at each other, and the sorcerer cleared his throat and stepped closer to the communication device’s input lens. “No, I believe Natasha managed to free herself.”

“Then you escaped Vormir on your own? That is truly auspicious!” the thunder god assumed.

“No, Thor, I was held in stasis for about five years.”

“Five years? Baldur’s ghost,” he stammered and looked away, calculating how long she’d been a prisoner. “I . . . I’m so sorry. Then who did we work with? How did it happen?”

“A Skrull spy, you smelly dope,” Rocket growled and slapped Thor’s belly to back him up a bit.

“Is that who died?” Thor asked.

“Yes,” Natasha said with a nod.

“I guess that explains some of her behavior and the shabby way she treated Bruce. You’ve told Clint, right?”

“He knows. He was here earlier,” she explained.

“Ah, good,” Thor said with a nod. “I’m glad you called me.”

“You weren’t the only one they called,” Rocket said irritably as he elbowed in front of the gigantic blonde again. “Why don’t you go back to helping Quill put that Bo-Flexier thing together?!”

“Looks like you’ve lost some weight,” Bruce noted.

“Only because we’re outta beer,” Rocket snapped.

“Thank you for noticing,” Thor said with a pleased smile.

“Actually,” Strange spoke up, “there is another matter we wanted to discuss. If Nebula is there, we’d like to include her in the conversation.” It took about ten minutes of discussion to get everyone up to speed between interruptions as the rest of the Guardians joined the conversation, except for Groot who mostly rolled his eyes as he worked a newer handheld game in the background before leaving the cabin. No, they’d not heard any news of the Infinity Stones manifesting, but they’d been mostly focused on following Gamora’s trail and looking for Asgardian survivors. There was confusion, but also a lot of joy after Bruce’s Snap returned people.

The Guardians had good news on that front. The spaceport where the heavily damaged hulk of the _Ambassador_ had been hauled after its destruction at Thanos’ hands had doubled its population of 1,200 as unsnapped Asgardians and even some resurrected ones rejoined the living along with a few Sakaaran gladiators as well. Thor teared up as he thanked Bruce for including so many of his people in the Hulk-Snap.

“It was the least I could do. I really wasn’t sure if it had worked. Were Loki or Heimdall returned?” Bruce asked.

“No news of them yet, but we’ve not given up hope,” Thor said with a shrug. “Most of the survivors will be immigrating to New Asgard to join the rest as ships become available,” he explained.

Rocket chuckled, “It’s not like we could get them an Uber Lift, but the locals seemed pretty motivated to get them all off the station and resettled.”

“Before they eat them out of lauder and breathe them out of oxygen,” Nebula added. “We’re headed toward Nowhere next as we search for my sister. Perhaps we’ll hear something about the Power or the Reality Stone there.”

“Hope so,” Quill added. “We’ve heard stories that don’t match up. Some reports say there’s nothing left of Xandar, but others say only the capital was damaged and it’s slowly and quietly being rebuilt. When we get closer, the information should get more reliable.” 

“If there’s something to see, we won’t know till we see it with our own eyes or not,” Draxx said stoically. 

“I hate to break up this love fest,” Rocket intoned, “but we are nearing the jump port. Has everyone made their requests, kissed their moms, and said their good-byes?”

“Please let us know as quickly as you’re able if there’s news of a Stone manifesting,” Strange entreated.

“We certainly will,” Nebula replied in her husky all-business tone. Bruce had a good rapport with Rocket and an abiding friendship with Thor, but he placed most of his confidence in the tall blue cyborg.

“Just a moment,” Thor said and got close to the device as the others receded from view. “Let me know when the wedding is, okay? I’d like to be there.” Before Bruce or Natasha could respond, he’d winked and signed off.

“Well,” Strange asked impishly, “when is it?”

“I don’t even know if he still snores yet,” Natasha deadpanned.

They’d talked for a little while and laid out plans, but it wasn’t long before the Sorcerer Supreme left via a fiery portal back to his Sanctum Sanctorum. The big black dog finally relaxed. Sirius had been lowkey guarding Natasha all evening since they’d been back, but now he retreated to his bed in the corner, circling before flopping down into a dark fury heap. Being on duty was apparently exhausting. 

They’d broken down and packed the equipment and finished cleaning up cups and plates when Friday let them know a video call from Pepper was coming through. Pep and Happy had beaten them to it. Bruce said they’d take the call on his laptop up in the bedroom, and Nat had raced him up the stairs. For the sake of the staircase, he’d let her win. 

He sat down at his desk and opened the laptop with its Hulk-sized keypad. Before he’d finished signing in, Natasha had settled onto his right thigh as if she’d claimed that as her spot now. When the screen came up, they weren’t surprised to find Pepper seated on a couch with Happy. She had a glass of what was probably white wine and Hap had a tall glass of dark beer in hand. They’d apparently settled Morgan in bed and felt like they’d waited as long as they could stand before calling. Both of them grinned as their eyes settled on Nat. 

“I can’t believe you’re back, Natasha,” Pepper said and her voice broke as she teared up.

“Me either. I can’t believe I missed you and Tony’s wedding and your daughter.” Bruce put his injured arm around her. “How are you doing?” she asked.

“It’s not easy, but Morgan keeps me busy,” Pepper admitted. “I can’t wait for you to meet her.”

Nat nodded, “Me either.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t put things together. I just knew something was wrong, even before the wedding. I should have known.”

“To be fair, Pep, the fake one was really good at pushing people away and setting them back on their heels,” Bruce said feeling a similar twinge of guilt even as he tried to make their friend feel better. 

Pepper had set the wine glass down and was hugging herself around the middle. “Oh, my God, what she put you through, Bruce. Tony thought she’d been brainwashed or reprogramed. We just couldn’t understand the disconnect and . . . I’m sorry, Nat, we tried to get her to see a psychiatrist, and it just drove her further away. After that, we sort of gave up.” That was after Bruce had had it out with her, too. The fake had been the last Avenger on the wall, but looking back, it was clear that was the interloper’s plan.

“It’s okay,” Natasha reassured her. “There was obviously some kind of mission, a reason for what the Skrull did.” Nat told herself there was no reason to make excuses, but there was clearly a bigger game involved that had driven the spy to do what he’d done. She and the others had just not put all the pieces together yet. 

“Well, I for one am glad things worked out after all,” Hap said and took a long sip of beer. It appeared as if Morgan and hashtagging had finally worn him out, too.

Bruce looked down and smiled as the redhead looked up and their eyes met. “I can certainly live with the result,” he said.

They talked for a while longer, discussing Morgan and Peter and the rebuilding of the Compound before making plans to visit the lake house on the weekend. The fake Natasha had distanced herself so far from the Stark household that Morgan likely wouldn’t associate the pale, haunted woman with the real Natasha. Maybe when the child was older, they’d explain what had happened.

As they got ready for bed, Nat made a mental list of things she needed to buy or order—regular-size hangers for one—filing her return/resurrection documentation and recovering her various accounts was also on the list. She planned to assess the broken laptop to see if anything was recoverable as well. Nat wanted to assemble all the puzzle pieces she could find, and she had a feeling the computer might have several clues to help her figure out what had happened and maybe why she had been chosen. There was also the Compound’s cloud file space, which Bruce would likely have some information about. They could probably swing that when he gave her a tour of the lab space and warehouse. 

She looked at herself in the bathroom mirror and sighed. It was going to take weeks to get back into real physical shape, but it was amazing how little muscle mass, stamina, and flexibility she’d lost while in that stasis container. She’d always been a quick healer and tough as nails, but it had to be the equipment or the procedure. From what she’d read, the Skrulls had done deepspace exploration, so maybe it had something to do with their specific technology? 

Bruce was checking through his email briefly at his desk, but he shut the computer as soon as he noticed she was standing in the bathroom doorway waiting on him. “Now, this is familiar,” she said. “Do you still not sleep that well?”

“Sorry, I just wanted to let Vella know you were here, so she wouldn’t freak out if she saw you before I could explain things. She’s not on social media, and I’ve never brought anyone home like this before.” He shrugged and blushed again—damn, but he was cute when he did that, she thought. He’d taken off the Wakandan prosthetic, so the disfigurement of his right arm was in plain sight. Natasha didn’t think it looked that bad considering what he’d been through. Nat already had a training program worked out in her head for both of them. She also noted how good he looked with a black t-shirt stretched tight across his chest and cartoon print fleece lounge pants.

As he set his glasses down, Bruce noticed she was checking him out again and blushed deeper, but he didn’t shy away from taking her in, too. She was wearing a silky green shift that flowed down to mid thigh. In his opinion, the scoop neckline was especially flattering. He knew she wasn’t wearing a bra, but he couldn’t tell if she had on panties or not. He liked little mysteries like that. “To answer your question, I don’t really need to sleep that much—you know, the gamma—but I feel better when I do get some downtime. My mind is clearer. I can get more done.”

“That sounds pretty normal for you,” she said. They’d both burned the midnight oil and ended up in the Tower’s Commons Room many times. “It was handy back in the Tower when we were both up and got to know each other over tea and sympathy.”

“And a first-aid kit,” Bruce added. He’d put in many of her stitches and dressed plenty of her minor wounds. As she approached, he still couldn’t tell if she had on panties or not. They were like Schrodinger’s cat. During his few moments of uncertainty, the panties both existed and didn’t exist. Bruce tried to focus back on reality. “Remember when we watched _It Happened One Night_?” 

“Of course.” Natasha smiled as she padded around the corner of the desk to him, and Bruce swiveled toward her, staying in his chair, so they are on a face-to-face level. 

As she stepped into his space, he recognized her unique citrus and floral smell. No wonder the fake had kept her distance. If he’d been this close, maybe he would have known. He should have been braver, more insistent. That seemed to be a script he’d followed too closely most of his life. Even back in the Tower when they’d fallen asleep together on the couch watching Claudette Colbert and Clark Gable. “We were both so tired that night, but I should have taken the chance and kissed you anyway.” 

“I wanted you to,” she said. “Maybe I shouldn’t have waited either.” How differently things might have played out between them if she had.

His damaged hand twitched as he thought about touching her. “I didn’t know you weren’t with Clint at the time. I didn’t want to ruin a friendship or take advantage of you in some way, especially after part of me had scared you so much.”

“I know, and that’s one of the things I’ve always loved and admired about you, even if it drove me a little nuts from time to time.”

“I’m sorry. I should have picked up on things . . . I guess?” Bruce wasn’t quite sure if he was all that sorry.

“You guess?” Natasha teased. “I hope you were at least as hot and bothered as I was.”

“Then you must have been very hot and bothered, too,” he said as she finally wrapped her arms around his neck. “I promise I won’t blow it this time.” Bruce tilted his head to the side to match her corresponding angle and their lips met. Their first kisses were quick and urgent as he took her in his arms. He had to be careful, but she didn’t as she pushed him back in his chair and climbed on his lap. His hands slipped down to her curvaceous hips and backside. He massaged the pleasing roundness of her contours through the silky nightshirt—definitely no panties he decided. That set a part of him revving down deep.

Natasha was straddling his hips with her knees on his thighs. “Finger me,” she breathed as their lips broke contact.

She didn’t have to ask him twice. Bruce thought about putting his right index finger to her lips but instead sucked it himself. He didn’t linger over it long, but she noticed how he’d rolled his tongue behind his front teeth as he removed his finger. Nat hiked her nightshirt above her hips, and he slipped his hand down between their torsos, touching her soft skin, on the way to finding the silky bit of hair and her mons. Bruce pressed gently with the heel of his hand, and she ground her hips into him. He immediately felt how damp she was against his palm, which always stirred him. “I love a woman who knows what she wants,” he murmured, and Natasha grinned provocatively as he nestled his finger between her damp folds then lightly circled her wet clit. 

“Don’t be a tease, Doc,” she purred and thrust her hips rhythmically against his hand.

Bruce rubbed his finger over her vaginal opening, circling and making sure she was physically ready to accommodate his digit before penetrating her. 

Nat’s intake of breath was sharp, “Yes, that’s what I want, Bruce.” He’d been really good at this before. Honestly, he’d been good at everything. Some lovers came by it naturally—they understood how to pay attention to signals and reactions, cataloging what a woman liked. Others knew how to listen and take instruction without their own egos getting in the way. Good lovers weren’t selfish either; they had to enjoy giving pleasure as much as experiencing it. As she’d suspected since they’d met, Bruce was all of those things—talented, imaginative, attentive, teachable, and he deeply enjoyed bringing her off. None of that had changed. 

He continued to slide his fingertip around her nub and then oscillated it with a little pressure like a violinist pressing and shaking against the strings to create a vibrato. He could feel her tightening up. “Is this good?”

“Right there! Keep going, Love!”

He’d intended to penetrate her, but he kept up the quick, controlled vibrations until she arched her back and gasped. He stopped. “You just came, didn’t you?” he asked with awe in his voice.

Natasha nodded and let the pleasurable feeling wash over her for a few more moments. “Oh, that was good,” she said as the intensity began to ebb.

“I don’t think we’ve done anything quite like that before, not with just my hand touching you there,” he noted, watching her color rise and recede. He’d sensed as much as felt her clench and then spasm before relaxing.

“That was . . . lush . . . different . . .” Natasha tried to articulate how it felt as she caught her breath.

“Surprising?” he asked and rested his right hand to her thigh.

“Yes, and nice. Thank you.” Natasha relaxed and finally let herself collapse against him. She felt boneless, even disembodied, and profoundly safe with him.

“What else may I do for you?” Bruce remembered how sensitive her nerve receptors were as she came down from an orgasm. “Tell me when it’s okay to touch you.” He was fine if she was done for the night. It had been such a crazy day that he knew she had to be exhausted.

“Kiss me,” she requested, so he nibbled with just his lips at her shoulder where her milky skin was bare. Bruce took his time and moved up to nuzzle her neck and kiss the shell of her left ear, which made her almost giggle. He blew a playful puff of air that lifted her hair and this time Nat did laugh. Bruce had a brief flash of memory: Banner doing the same thing to her except they were on a couch. Then it was gone except for the beautiful feeling as it integrated into his memories.

As Bruce ran his hands over her sides and back, he could feel the long-healed scars he remembered; some of these he’d stitched up for her. He stroked her thighs and glutes, refamiliarizing himself further with her topography. There would be plenty of time for this, Bruce told himself. “I’m okay if you just want to go to bed. It’s been a long day, and we finally have time to breathe and not rush things.”

“I owe you one or two now,” she acknowledged and then yawned.

That settled it for him. “To bed it is,” he said. Bruce supported her against his chest as he got up and turned back the covers on the bed before she climbed out of his arms and got comfortable. “Lights,” he told Friday and the Interface dimmed them. He took off his t-shirt and wiped his hand off before tossing it into the laundry basket across the room. Bruce settled into the over-sized bed beside her and pulled up the covers. “I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed this, Nat.”

They lay there quietly for a few minutes as their eyes adjusted. They both watched each other until Natasha broke the silence. “What?” she asked, “I know you want to say something.” She ran her hands across his abdominals and up to his pectorals, carding her fingers through the trail of fine dark hair from his stomach to his well-developed chest muscles. “Talk to me, Love, before I’m down for the count.” She could feel him quivering ever so slightly beneath her fingertips’ touch.

His brows knitted into a frown as he considered for a moment how best to respond. “I know this sounds silly, but I was just thinking I kind of miss being the little spoon. I know we can’t really do that anymore. I don’t want to elbow or roll over on you. Obviously, safety is the priority now.” She could see that he smiled a little awkwardly.

They’d often lain together with her front pressed up against his back, holding him almost protectively with her hands caressing his contours like she was now, but from behind. She also used to fall asleep on him with her head in the crook of his neck and shoulder; likewise, that sleeping position might present some problems now. “I have an idea. Turn over on your back,” she instructed.

As she gently pushed him, Bruce rolled over and Nat climbed up on top of him. He remembered her touch and her weight on him had always felt good, comforting, something that had tied him to the present and kept his mind from wandering into darker places. He would listen to her breathing slow before he could get his mind to quiet down. Now, with her body on his large torso and the skin-to-skin contact, he felt both calmed and comforted again for the first time in years. She ran her hand along his jaw, feeling the roughness of his beard stubble. He nuzzled into her touch and then shuddered with pleasure and deeper emotions as the tension started to ebb away. “Thank you. I’ve missed you so much, babe.”

Eleven years, he’d carried a torch for her, planned and then lost a future with her, gone through five confusing years of mostly painful rejection with flickers of hope that wouldn’t quite die till she was supposedly gone just two weeks ago—self-sacrificed for the Soul Stone. When she hadn’t come back with Clint, he’d shoved aside most of the grieving he knew would inevitably come and overwhelm him, holding himself together to bring everyone back. Then, as the feedback from the Stones burned and scarred him, Bruce was sure the real Natasha had been there with him somehow reaching out. If he only knew how to use the Stones, he was sure he could have brought her back safe and whole. 

The failure to resurrect her left him hollowed out. He’d brought back half the universe, yet not the one soul who meant the most to him. If it weren’t for his sense of duty to Rhodey and Rocket, he’d wanted to die underneath that mountain of concrete and steel debris. He’d wished he hadn’t promised the Ancient One to see things through to the end, that he could just let go and quit hurting. Yet, he’d promised he would survive and keep his oath, so he kept going even after he couldn’t save Tony either. 

Bruce startled as he realized his heart was now hammering beneath his ribs. Here Natasha was smiling down at him, laying on top of his chest and body, resurrecting all his complex feelings for her from the ashes her loss and the doppelganger left. 

Nat could feel his heart pumping hard. There was a bit of the old look of panic in his eyes, but they stayed dark—no glowing flair of green in their depths. Natasha stretched out her arms, her hands tracing out his limbs as far as she could reach, just past his elbows. It played off their connection through the Lullaby and went beyond those old bonds. 

As she smiled down at him in the dim light, Bruce calmed himself, leaned up, and kissed her lips as delicately as he could. She brought her hands back up and held his face, not being delicate at all once again with her passion as she kissed him hard on the mouth. Bruce wrapped his thickly muscled arms around her and finally let go of something painful inside. It bokes like a wave against a rock. It was like he’d been holding his breath for years and only now could he let it all out and breathe air in again. “Oh, Nat . . . please stay. Don’t leave me again,” he pled in a ragged whisper.

“It’s okay, Love. It’s okay,” Natasha reassured him as his breathing and heart rate evened out. “I’m here. I’m here now, and I’m not going away. I want to stay here with you.” She was telling the truth. In the back of her mind all day she’d been thinking through how things might work out for them. Nat could imagine what that might look like now. She was sure they’d find a balance, so they could stay together, live with each other. Ironically, the Compound being under construction would make things easier, give them time to make a life together here, adjust and talk things through to see what they both wanted and where they fit together here and in the world now. She was ready for it, and she wanted to go forward with Bruce.

“You’re sure you’re okay with this?” He pointed to his face, but he meant all of himself. “I’m not too different for you? Too much of a monster on both the inside and out now?” After two decades, that negative perception of himself had sunk its claws in as deep as the radiation.

Natasha understood what was troubling him and shook her head. “Bruce, I love you. I find you desirable and attractive—the color really does not matter. The size does not matter. You’re still you, and you were never monstrous in my eyes.” He appeared a little skeptical looking up at her in the ambient light, but she was sure he was blushing again. Natasha touched the end of his nose with an index finger. “You’re kind and thoughtful and loving. Despite all the shit you’ve been through, that’s not changed. My feelings for you have not changed either. I’m not some fickle, shallow tease who wants to manipulate you. One of your qualities I’ve found intriguing since we met is you always know when I’m being honest or not. I’ve never been able to get away with less than the truth with you. I’m not just saying what sounds nice. You know I’m sincere.”

“I know you mean it,” he said. “Thank you. It helps to hear you say it.” Undoing a lifetime of damage didn’t happen with the snap of someone’s fingers—his or anyone else's.

She stroked his larger, but still-handsome face. “We’ve both been shaped and changed by our experiences. Yours are just more obvious on the outside.” Bruce brought up his damaged hand and touched hers. Natasha ran her fingers across the network of pale scars. “Hey, I know this may sound a little weird, but tell Helen not to repair the scars the Stones burned into you. Don’t hide the marks. You earned them and should be proud to carry them, Bruce. If your two sides hadn’t made peace, there wouldn’t have been anyone capable of both wielding the Gauntlet and surviving the experience.”

He started to object and say he’d still failed, but Bruce thought about that again. Maybe he hadn’t. After all, here she was safe and whole. Maybe the Stones had laughed because his wish had already been true without their intervention? “All right. Tomorrow we’ll shape our future together.”

They fell asleep with their hearts beating close together and holding each other.

~*~

He’d just slipped into R.E.M. when Bruce found himself in a lucid dream, walking down a stony beach at sunset. The colors of the western sky were spectacular and clear as their gradience slipped from oranges and reds toward violet and cobalt above him and to the east. There was a wood fire further down the stretch of shore, so he headed toward it. The breaking of the waves along the shoreline was a low rolling rumble in the background. As he approached, Bruce realized there were two figures talking together who were seated on a massive tree trunk lying flat like a bench on the other side of the flames. They both looked up as he came closer. 

“‘Bout time,” the larger one said in a deep, good-natured voice as Bruce stepped into the edge of the firelight. The smaller figure smiled as he flexed his hands, holding them near the fire for warmth, but he didn’t say anything as he studied Bruce.

“It’s great to see you two, but what are we doing here?” Bruce asked, looking around. He’d imagined talking to them before, but not often and not together on a beach like this. It was usually a sign that he was feeling a lot of stress when they would show up or he’d find them someplace inside a dream scenario.

“You wanted us,” Hulk said. He’d stood up and walked around the fire to shake Bruce’s hand and then pulled him into a bearhug, which he didn’t hesitate to return. Bruce had to look up to his older self who was a foot taller, a few shades greener, and several hundred pounds of muscle heavier.

“I assume that’s the reason,” Banner agreed as he watched them embrace, rubbing his forearms as if he was nervous or perhaps cold.

Bruce nodded, “I guess that makes sense. I’ve been thinking about you both off and on all day. I have good news. Do you know what’s happened?” Sometimes they knew everything he did; other times, he had to bring them up to speed.

Banner finally stood up and walked around the fire toward him. “She’s really back, isn’t she?!” His voice and look were intense. A little skepticism was only natural. He . . . no, they had all been hurting for longer than not over her.

“Yes, the real one this time,” Bruce confirmed as his smaller self finally broke into an approving grin.

After a few moments, Banner’s expression grew more serious again as he studied Bruce. “But you look sad, kid,” he murmured. “What’s wrong? Is . . . is there a problem with Nat?”

“No . . . not exactly.” He searched his brain for how to voice his concerns.

“Then why are we here?” Hulk asked returning to his place to sit on the far side of the fire. “It seems like things are finally going your way, right?”

“Sit down. Let’s talk,” Banner said and motioned for Bruce to join them. Bruce sat down on a sizable piece of driftwood, and Banner sat back down in a spot halfway between the larger two. 

“Yes, they are going my way for once. I guess I’m just worried. I want to make Natasha happy, but I’m not sure if I can. She misses the both of you. I feel like a poor substitute for what she had.”

Hulk cocked his head and grinned, “You are both of us, Bruce. You are our ‘A-Game,’ not a substitute.”

“I know that, but . . .”

Banner frowned, “We created you to be the best of us both. After three years, there is no going back now—only moving forward. Please be honest with her about it. I know she’ll understand.”

“I get that. I have been as open with her as I can. I know you designed me, built the chosen parts of yourselves into me, but I’m not sure if I’m up to this. Sooner or later, I’m going to disappoint her. I’ll fall short of what you two were to her.”

“Then no big deal,” Hulk assured him. “You’re human. You’ll figure it out with her and you’ll both move on past it together.”

Bruce looked over to Banner for his response. The physicist nodded, “He’s right, and she won’t expect you to be perfect. The real Nat will accept all of you, flaws and all.”

“But it’s you she loves,” he said to Banner.

“You are me, in every way that counts.” Banner turned his head to the left to address Hulk. “Hey, I thought we figured out how to tap down the anxiety levels for him,” Banner said in a joking, theatrical tone from behind his hand.

“That’s your contribution to the mix, not mine,” Hulk said with a snort. “I contributed the chill,” he said with mock smugness. Bruce chuckled and shook his head. They reminded him of a comedy team-up or maybe an old married couple. Brothers, that was it.

“Look, Bruce, she knows and loves you already. Give her time to get used to you,” Banner urged him.

“It’s been what? Less than twenty-four hours since she’s been back?” Hulk noted.

“All of 15 hours and twenty-four minutes,” Bruce admitted.

“Let go of the anxiety and the guilt. That’s mine, okay?” Banner told him.

“You’ve done nothing wrong, not yet anyway,” Hulk added.

Banner assured him, “When you do screw something up, we’ll still be inside to help you. That’s one of the saving graces of this condition: you’re never completely alone.”

“And she’s not going to leave you,” Hulk added. “Listen to your gut on that, kid. You’re finally in the same place with the same priorities and only half the distractions.”

Bruce sat still, taking it all in for a few moments before he spoke again. “Thanks. I do appreciate your encouragement, guys. There is something else though that I need to run by you. I’m still trying to piece a lot of things together after the Return. Would you please think about the problems with Vision?”

“Which part? There are plenty,” Banner noted and Hulk nodded.

“The power source. I can handle the programming and data integration, and I have very capable help with the neural net and the body.”

“Trying to replace the Mind Stone isn’t exactly a straightforward task. It was more than a power source for Vis,” Banner reminded him.

“I know. I think we’ve identified a way to use a crystalline structure to perform with the same internal dynamics as an arc reactor, but it’s going to require more than just the right container or programing. It’s going to need something to jumpstart it for the initial fueling.”

“Are you volunteering?” Hulk asked. “You’re running on more than gamma after that snappy little recharge and near barbeque.”

Bruce rolled his eyes. “I know that. My problem is I don’t have enough data on it to figure out exactly what it is I’m carrying around now sequestered in my bones with the gamma radiation. We can’t get precise readings on it. We analyzed the stones before we put them in the Gauntlet, but what I harnessed wasn’t just energy in the form of radiation. It was something more. We collected as much data as we could during our Snap, but only a fraction of it was saved before the Compound was blown to hell.” He huffed with frustration. “I don’t want to syphon off the Stones’ energy for Vis if something harmful is entangled with it. If we don’t know what it is, I’m not sure how exactly to filter it out.”

Banner had sat silently listening to Bruce as his own mental wheels turned. “Think through the process, Bruce. It’s like any other experiment or procedure. Instruments and components come first. What are the Stones?”

“‘Six singularities condensed down into ingots’ is what Rocket said, and Wong explained they each control an essential aspect of existence. But, we never completely figured out exactly what they were—not even the Mind Stone—and Tony and you spent the most time working with it before Ultron escaped and dumped all that data,” Bruce answered.

“So, what happened when any of the physical Stones were destroyed?” Hulk asked.

Bruce shrugged, “Their energy was released. That’s what happened when Wanda destroyed the Mind Stone and when Thanos destroyed all of them.”

“Do you have those readings?” Banner asked.

“I bet someone does,” Hulk said.

“Okay, there’s more data you might be able to gather and analyze but is that really what you’ll need?” Banner asked. “Or, do you need information about something that’s not so measurable?”

Bruce ran his scarred hand down his face, “Shit. You’re right. When Tony ran the schematics, you said it looked like a brain, an intelligence in the act of thinking, but it wasn’t a human one.” Bruce looked up at the sky. He could clearly see the stars now. “In a sense, it’s a living force.”

“Ah, Grasshopper, you catch on real fast sometimes,” Hulk said with a laugh.

“What’s it doing to me inside?” Bruce asked as he continued to gaze upward.

Hulk snorted. “Well, it burned the hell out of you going in when you tried to bring back Nat.”

“I think you know,” Banner said. “It’s not killing you . . . yet, but it needs to come out. Your bones are holding up, but it’s caused a drain on your normal repair and regeneration abilities. I agree with what Shuri and you were speculating: removing what came in with the exotic cocktail of radiation you absorbed and using it to help Vision should be a win-win.”

“How do I do that without setting off the equivalent of a dirty bomb when it comes out?” Bruce asked. “That’s what I need the help with.”

“Give it a better place to call home than your bones,” Hulk offered.

Banner chuckled. “He’s right. Look at how the Stones were constructed as you design the reactor’s housing. The rest you’ll figure out. The strength of your focused will is what enabled you to wield the Gauntlet. You may not have mastered what’s in the Stones, but you know what you’re dealing with now. Build on that experience.”

“I wish these things came with an owner’s manual,” Bruce lamented.

“You could already write a chapter or two in that book,” Hulk reassured him.

Banner finally reached over and touched Bruce’s healing arm, running his cool fingers across the misshapen muscles and tendons as he traced the jagged lines down to the pale scars where the Stones had rested in the Gauntlet. “You don’t need a book or a manual. You’ll never own the Singularities. What you have is a map, and for you that will be enough, Bruce.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Autumn_Froste for the beta read. Thank you for patiently sticking with me and the story.
> 
> I am still working on the academic book chapter, but I wanted to get this out to you before Christmas. Once that academic draft is turned in, I plan to be back with the final chapters to finish our story and get back to writing Special Needs after that. I wish I could give a firm date (end of January?), but I’d end up missing it if I did.
> 
> Comments, questions, and commiseration are always welcome! (Snarky BS, not so much.) Please give a like, a follow, a kudo, a review, a share, a tweet, and tell your friends to give it a read!
> 
> If you'd like to see the cover edits for each part, check out my Pinterest board or the Brutasha Nation or Hulk & Associates page on Facebook. This collage includes a Favreau and Paltrow pic, a wizard, a fire, Girl Scout cookies, and the OTP.
> 
> Next up: Part 17, Natasha dreams.


	17. Part 17: Hearts and Minds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Natasha's turn to dream as she tries to work through her emotions and adjust to her new situation. Reconciling her past with her present and figuring out why she was targeted leads Nat to confronting feelings of loss and considering alternate explanations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Better late than never! Thanks for sticking with me. I'll try and keep the momentum going through till the end.  
> In the story, it’s still late Monday night of October 30, 2023, as Natasha dreams.

Although she hardly moved after she fell asleep on Bruce’s chest, Natasha’s dreams weren’t peaceful. She was working a mission with teammates from different decades mashed together at first, several of whom had never met in reality. She was the only common factor connecting some of them. They were assaulting a tower made of dark natural rock that sloped upward steeper and steeper until it disappeared into a ceiling of low-hanging clouds above them. The light was a strange orange-pink like dawn or twilight, she wasn’t sure, and the thick cloud cover made it difficult to locate the sun? This certainly wasn’t Belarus or Kansas, Toto. When she looked down the slope, the situation was much the same with a layer of fog blanketing most of the lower elevations and what look like flooded fens below. If the visibility were better, she was sure there’d be a flaming eye at the top of the climb and a plaque that said, “Welcome to Mordor.”

Clint was beside her as they advanced cautiously up the incline, but he was dressed in a strange black and gold hooded uniform, which she didn’t recognize. His bow and quiver were missing. One of her sisters, an older Widows trained in the Red Room program, was on her left side, firing at something in the fog below with both her handguns. Natasha’s heart came into her throat when she realized the woman was supposed to be long dead a decade or more ago. Natasha knew for certain she had to be dreaming to have plucked a person out of her past.

Shouts and screams and the sound of high-tech weapons’ fire roiled up the foggy slope beneath their position. The ground shuddered, and suddenly Clint grabbed Natasha’s right shoulder and pushed her down flat against the gravely path. A blob of orange energy struck an outcrop just ten yards beyond them, shaking the ground and sending rock chips flying.

“Fuck!” Clint spat and wiped blood out of his eyes that dripped from a small gash on his forehead where a piece of stone had nicked him. As Natasha gave the wound a quick inspection, he touched his comms, “Hey, whatever let loose that fireball way outclasses us. Isn’t it about time for a Code Green?”

There was a roar from far below them followed by the creaking rip and crunch of metal and panicked screams mixed with smaller arms’ fire. “Fast enough for you, Barton?” a deep male voice she didn’t recognize snapped back over the comms. “He was already worried about Romanoff, so get ready.”

Something hit the same rockface just above them, but this time it made a wet thud and the mangled body of an Outrider slid down and landed in a lifeless heap of broken limbs. A S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent on Clint’s right retched and threw up. Nat wondered whom they were fighting and what the objective could be. It had to be Thanos’ army, but why were they ascending the slope to this tower? 

Something large bellowed on the path below. It was closer to them than the sound of weapons’ blasts. A dark shape sprang clear from the tendrils of fog and sped toward them on all fours . . . no, sixes? Natasha instantly had her Glocks in hand and sighted them in time to get off a few rounds as the creature closed the gap. Just as she prepared to roll, a blur of purple, gray, and green cut the massive beast off and rocked it backwards on thrashing limbs. She barely had time to recognize Hulk and stop firing before he was on the thing again. He’d landed a double-fisted blow to its lower back and then jerked its head to the side to break the thing’s neck in seconds. Another creature came out of the fog and Hulk slammed the dead body of its fellow creature into the second before leaping high in the air through the fog and smashing back down atop the shoulders of a third right behind the second beast. Hulk bashed both their heads with a boulder while they jerked brokenly on the ground.

As Hulk dropped the ichor-covered rock in disgust, Nat realized this was indeed Hulk and not Bruce, but something was different from when they’d last worked together in Sokovia. He focused on her and smiled, straightening up a bit from his normal crouch and squaring his shoulders as he approached. He was wearing a full suit of purple, black, and gray material that covered his torso, legs, and shoulders down to his biceps and ankles.

“Took you long enough,” Clint complained.

“Had company,” Hulk returned, but his gaze had never left Nat. “We need to get ‘Tasha to the top while the rest fight Thanos’ dogs,” he explained. “Lift?” he asked her, sounding less gruff.

They had often teamed up in the past, so Natasha didn’t hesitate. “Sure, Big Guy.” 

He bent down on his right knee and offered her a boost up with his right hand. Natasha stepped lightly onto his palm and left knee before swinging onto his shoulder and neck. She noted there were straps for hand or footholds on the back and shoulders of his uniform which practically had her name on them. She would have killed for these before Sokovia. She wondered whose idea they were.

“Not fair,” Clint protested. “Since you and Banner got engaged, I’ve totally lost my ride.”

“Complain to Banner,” Hulk said with a brief chuckle before he turned and sprang up the slope at a smooth lope, covering the rocky ground quickly and leaving the rest of the team behind to fight. “Hang on,” he instructed as the pitch of the incline soon had him climbing and leaping between rocky outcrops. The sounds of the skirmishing began to fade as they made their way up the crude path. “We’re supposed to retrieve it.”

Natasha leaned close to his ear. “What’s at the top?”

“A rock,” Hulk said.

“An Infinity Stone?”

“Soul Stone,” he answered tersely, keeping his attention on the terrain. 

Natasha reminded herself this was a dream, but she now felt a looming sense of dread. She remembered hearing from someone Thanos and Nebula’s sister Gamora had traveled to Vormir for the Soul Stone, but only Thanos had returned. Was Gamora’s body or something worse waiting at the top? Natasha shivered. They were getting high enough up for the temperature to start dropping, and before long, sleet and then snow started to flurry around them. They were well above the fog and the tree line when Hulk stopped and stood still, pausing to listen.

“We have company, but I’m not stopping to say, ‘Hello,’” he said with a growl in his voice. “Hang on tight.” He leapt almost vertically up the face of the rock, barely pausing for toe or hand holds as he propelled them upward through the swirling gusts of snow. She closed her eyes and hung on. After a few minutes, they reached a plateau. 

“This has got to be near the top,” Natasha said, and Hulk knelt down, so she could slide off. Although she wasn’t prone to motion sickness, the ride still left her a bit off balance and the air was getting thinner.

Hulk was listening again. “Need to keep moving and stay on the trail,” he explained. They followed a narrow path between dark stones, leaving footprints in the snow that didn’t always blow away. She would have preferred to cover their trail, but there didn’t appear to be another route, so her efforts would have just wasted time. They soon came to a cave-like arch and a man-sized tunnel in the dark rock face. They paused, looking for another route, but not finding one. If Thanos had come this way, surely Hulk could? 

“Can you fit, Big Guy?” Natasha asked as she sized him up with the opening. She looked inside and shown a light as she scouted it out. The ceiling quickly lowered to about six feet and the shoulder-width walls stayed the same consistent measurement as far as she could see. Even if Thanos has come this way, Hulk at his current size wasn’t going to fit. They were in a hurry, so somehow, they’d have to get through the narrow passage. “Sorry, it’s even smaller inside, Big Guy.”

“Could make it fit Hulk,” he suggested, scratching the back of his head. She gave him a knowing look and shook her head. “Okay, puny Banner has his uses. Don’t mess around. Thanos’ hounds are coming, and I need to protect you.” She gave him a withering look. “Okay, Hulk needs to protect Banner. ‘Tasha can look after herself.” To Hulk’s credit, he didn’t roll his eyes.

“Thank you,” she said a little tartly but couldn’t keep from smiling as she took her right glove off, and Hulk obediently offered her his hand and forearm without her having to say a word. “Hey, sun’s gettin’ low.” This time he rolled his eyes like a rebellious teenager before collapsing onto his knees. Natasha knew she was dreaming, but the transformation process still looked just as painful as it always had with his bones and spine audibly cracking as he contracted and jerked, collapsing inward. The heat poured off him and the falling snow hissed as it struck his skin and sublimed into a cloud of steam. As the green receded into his pink skin tones, Bruce had rocked forward onto his hands and knees on the stony ground at the cave’s entrance. It was an unforced transformation, but it still had to have hurt like hell. Bruce would cool down quickly in the cold temperature, so Natasha was relieved to see his new uniform shifted to a multilayered garment that covered his arms and feet. There had to be some nanotech involved, so Tony must have had a hand in it.

Natasha helped him to his feet, and Bruce surprised her with a kiss she wanted to lose herself in with him. After a few passionate moments, he pulled back reluctantly, and they both smiled, a little embarrassed. “Sorry, I know. We need to keep moving,” Bruce said, and she laughed and took point. They’d gone perhaps a mile heading steadily upward in a switchback pattern when natural light shown around the next rocky corner. 

Natasha pulled up and placed a hand on Bruce’s chest to stop him. They listened, but the wind was the only sound to be heard. She cautiously crept closer to the last corner of stone, so she could get a view of the opening.

“Come forward, Natasha, daughter of Ivan, and Bruce . . . and Hulk, sons of Rebecca. Fear not, I am the Guardian of the Soul Stone, which you seek,” said a male voice with an urbane German accent. Nat looked back at Bruce who seemed rather stunned, but he nodded and they stepped cautiously around the rock into a larger chamber that opened to the outside. 

The voice’s owner appeared beside the exit, a red skeletal face in a pitch-black spectral cloak that seemed to float in slow motion independent of the air moving through the chamber. Bruce stopped and grabbed Natasha’s arm. “I know him. This isn’t an alien. He’s from Earth’s history.”

The Guardian smiled, “It has been a long time, but yes, I am from Earth.”

“Who are you?” Natasha asked.

“He’s the Red Skull. Johann Schmidt,” Bruce said through gritted teeth.

“That was once my name lifetimes ago. How do you know me?”

“I’m well acquainted with the history of Abraham Erskine’s formula, especially its misuses.” Bruce’s fists were clenched and his gaze never left the specter. 

“Ah, another American Super Soldier.” Bruce winced. “No? Wait, a fellow scientist as well, but that doesn’t begin to account for the dual nature I detect in you, Dr. Banner. How curious.”

“How did you get here? The reports said the Tesseract disintegrated you,” Natasha demanded.

“The power within the Tesseract was the Space Stone. I was found unworthy when I sought to wield it, so I was made to serve the Soul Stone here on Vormir. I will be your guide, but I must warn you that there will be a sacrifice to possess the Stone if that is what you seek.”

“We’ve spilt enough blood on the slopes today to serve as any sacrifice,” Natasha informed him.

“If only it were that simple, Liebschen. Come,” the specter said as he led them out of the cave.

Natasha looked at Bruce as he touched her arm. “Nat, I don’t trust him,” he whispered.

“I don’t either, but we don’t have much of a choice. Let’s hear what he has to say.” They followed the ghostly figure out into an open space at the top of the tower. It looked like a temple in the process of becoming a ruin.

“I’m beginning to wish there was an eye of Sauron up here,” Bruce said. Natasha rolled her eyes. They arrived at an open area with carvings in the stone beneath their feet, but their gaze was instantly drawn to the cliff and the view before them. They were above the clouds that stretched out over the landscape to the horizon. The sky was a luminous pink with purple shades near the edges.

“What do we have to do?” Bruce asked.

“If you seek to possess the Soul Stone, you need to understand its power and its unique place among the Stones. It alone demands a sacrifice.”

“What kind of sacrifice?” he asked.

“In order to acquire the Soul Stone, you must lose that which you love.”

“ _Whom_ you love? Okay, I’m definitely ready to trade this for Barad-dûr,” Bruce said under his breath. 

“I’m not familiar with Barad-dûr,” the Guardian commented.

“It’s a fictional tower of doom,” Bruce explained.

“I’d prefer a sphynx with riddles to this,” Natasha groused. 

Bruce snorted, “Only if we didn’t get eaten.”

“Have you heard the saying, ‘Beggars can’t be choosers’?” the wraith intoned.

“What would someone do if she came here alone? Throw a bucket of chicken over the cliff?” Natasha asked, edging into irritated sarcasm.

That didn’t seem to ruffle Schmitt, “No, she’d need to go back and bring the person to sacrifice.”

“You did say, ‘that which,’ not _whom_ ,” Bruce pointed out.

“No, it’s a soul for a soul, an everlasting exchange,” the Skull insisted.

Natasha looked at Bruce, “I think we need to get the Reality Stone first.”

“That might work,” Bruce agreed. “It’s worth a try.”

“I’ll save you the trouble,” the Guardian offered. “The Soul Stone is the Queen among equals. The others cannot overrule it.”

“Who makes these rules?” Nat complained.

“Not I,” the dark specter said sternly.

Bruce motioned her over to the side. “I have an idea. Throw me off. That will count as your sacrifice. Hulk will come out before I hit the bottom . . . or at least before I die. That ought to work. I’m kind of getting used to it.”

Nat gave him a stern look for joking around. “He just said, ‘a soul for a soul.’ That doesn’t sound like you’d live.”

“Hmmm. You might or you might not,” the wraith said, butting in. “Your situation is very unique. Do you have a soul to spare? What would Hulk be without your essence?”

“That’s a good point,” she noted.

“Well, it’s not going to be you who goes over. That would be suicide,” Bruce countered.

“Would that work?” she asked the specter.

“It’s splitting hairs, but a suicide is a self-sacrifice, not a sacrifice, so it might not work.”

“It shouldn’t,” Bruce said stubbornly.

Natasha paced away from the men to think. What sort of being sacrificed a loved one to gain something like the Soul Stone? A megalomaniac like Thanos or someone truly desperate, she postulated. No wonder they called him the Mad Titan. She told herself there had to be a way around this, but she couldn’t help remembering that her abductor hadn’t found one.

Bruce was standing closer to the cave’s opening, clasping his hands and pacing, when he suddenly stood still and listened much like Hulk had earlier. After a few long moments, he walked over to her. She thought she could hear something that didn’t give a damn about stealth approaching through the tunnels. Bruce grasped her by the shoulders. “Nat, we’re running out of time. We can’t let them find us here. I doubt Thanos’ hounds can earn the Soul Stone, but his ‘Children’ might if they’re here. At the very least, they’ll take back the information for attaining it and cut access to it off from us if we don’t beat them to it.”

Natasha looked at him. She’d wanted more time. She wrung her hands. Suddenly, Natasha realized the glove on her left hand was tight because she was wearing his engagement ring. Bruce had survived without her before. _Half the universe_. She didn’t know if she wanted to go on without him. He was going to have to bring everyone back with his own Snap. Nat turned and broke his grip on her arms. She wanted to look at him one last time, but she didn’t dare. “I love you,” she choked out and sprinted for the cliff’s edge.

Bruce had been expecting her move. She hadn’t closed half the distance when larger hands closed around her torso and swung her momentum in the opposite direction. She went airborne, grabbing for a handhold along his shoulder, hoping to activate the nanotech on his uniform, only to find he’d thought one step ahead of her and not activated the top half of his outfit. Natasha hit the smooth stone belly-first and the impact knocked the breath out of her. She saw Hulk turn his head to make certain she was safe before he made his leap beyond the cliff’s edge. She tried to scream with grief and rage, but only a painful moan would come out of her. Natasha was certain he’d said, “I love you more,” as gravity had pulled him out of sight.

She gasped for breath and then sobbed before she forced herself to stand and struggle to the edge. It was Hulk’s body she saw sprawled on the stones below when the fall shouldn’t have been enough to seriously injure him. Natasha half expected him to get up or transform back into Bruce.

“Interesting,” the Red Skull said, standing beside her and studying the prone green body below. “I didn’t quite see that coming. He becomes a grüner Waldgeist . . . a Scheusal?”

Natasha fired a round from her Glock into his now solid and once again vulnerable temple, and the former Guardian crumpled to the stone. “I did. I still couldn’t stop it,” she said to no one in particular. She looked down at the dying Johann Schmidt at her feet. “He’s not a monster. That was you. Hulk has always been a hero . . . and so has Bruce Banner.”

There was a sudden rush of wind and the clouds opened up as a column of light ascended from the tower below into the darkening sky. _A soul for a soul, an everlasting exchange_.

When Natasha opened her eyes, she was comfortably warm and holding someone’s hand with her left. She felt peaceful and her physical pain was substantially reduced. Suddenly, she realized they were in a shallow pool of water on the plane far below the tower. She quickly sat up and saw Bruce was lying unconscious beside her, a peaceful look on his almost angelic face. “Bruce!” She let go of his hand and shook him by his shoulders when he didn’t respond.

His eyes flew open. “Nat!?” He struggled to sit up and realized there was something in his right hand. He unclenched his fist, revealing an orange glowing crystal. “Hulk! No!” He looked at her with horror and misery contorting his features. “He’s gone, Nat. I can’t feel him. He’s just gone!”

~*~

Natasha’s dream faded and shifted, and she was alone in the field of wildflowers again. The last time she’d been gathering armfuls of spiderwort, dark-eyed Susans, and Queen Anne’s lace, but now she was just walking toward the top of a rise, sensing there was something or someone there waiting. Yet, she didn’t see anyone else around until she arrived at the crown of the small hill and found a quilt spread out to flatten down a square spot like a private little room in the tall grass. Bruce was there lying on his back with his arms cushioning his head, chewing on a stem of grass. He wasn’t the new version of Bruce Banner she knew was breathing beneath her in their bed nor the one she’d just been with on Vormir.

“There you are,” he said and broke into a pleased smile that spread across his handsome face as he sat up. He looked like he had over five years ago: warm brown eyes, dark curly hair with graying temples, and a slim body of perfectly normal size and medium Caucasian skin tone. No green. This was the past Bruce, not the present. He was wearing the same blue checkered shirt she’d claimed and worn earlier herself. Natasha suddenly remembered she’d packed it for him along with his other abandon belongings before the Tower’s living quarters were cleared out. He’d been missing for three months at that point. Tony had packed up and moved Bruce’s lab himself, but he’d asked her to box up Bruce’s personal things in his apartment. Natasha remembered holding the shirt to her nose and inhaling, hoping to smell him for a moment before folding the garment and placing it in a moving box full of his clothing headed to the new Avengers Compound. It all waited in storage until Bruce returned from Sakaar and reclaimed his things about two years later.

“Hi,” Natasha said, not sure why she was imagining him here beneath the open sky looking like he had before Hulk went to Sakaar. Was this really Bruce or just a ghost she couldn’t quite let go?

He patted the spot next to him on the quilt to his left. “Please sit and spend a few minutes here with me. I’m not sure how long we’ll have.” 

Usually, she was more cautious than this, even in her dreams, but she was acutely aware the whole thing was in her imagination—it wasn’t real. The adventure on Vormir hadn’t been real either. “What’s up?” she asked as she sat down, figuring it wouldn’t hurt to play along if her mind and her heart were trying to work things out.

He’d brought his right knee up and turned his body a bit to face her better. His feet were bare and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. She noted that his right arm appeared normal, but the hand resting on his thigh had the same white scars where the stones had been that she’d traced on a much larger green arm in reality. Even his ghost was scarred. He noticed her staring and simply smiled as if he was okay with the marks, that he’d taken her advice to the “new guy” and accepted the wounds as his own. “I’m glad you’re here, Nat.”

“Where is here?” she asked. It certainly wasn’t Vormir. The fate of half the universe wasn’t on their shoulders at the moment either, and they seemed to be alone with just the birds and the drone of a few insects.

Bruce looked around them at the field of grass and flowers, considering his answer. “Some place familiar to you, pleasant, but still neutral?” he guessed. “I’m not sure.”

“Neutral? Like no-man’s land?” she prodded.

“No, I’m pretty sure it’s all yours, Nat. I don’t recognize it. Honestly, I just wanted to see you and be with you if I could. I’m surprised that thinking about this happening has worked. At least, I think it’s worked. It’s hard to tell when you’re in the middle of a dream.”

“Okay,” she said, not quite sure if this was really her Bruce. “How are you in my dream, Doc?”

“I’m not 100% certain. I think maybe I dream walked or projected. It’s kind of like guided dreaming, but it spills over into a mutual experience. Sharing head space was the only way I could communicate with Hulk for a long time, and the barriers only seemed to come down for us during R.E.M. Of course, that was confined to my own head.” He gave her a rather goofy, apologetic expression and shrugged, “Sorry, that’s my best guess for how I’m sharing this with you.” 

They both laughed a little nervously at that, but she thought, _Why not?_ She’d dreamed of stranger things over the past five years, and she’d already been adventuring off world tonight with another version of him and Hulk. How much more traumatic could this get? “Maybe we’re both imagining this, wanting to find a way to reconnect?” She knew it sounded drippy and sentimental even before she suggested it.

Still, Bruce looked at her in that sincere, nonjudgmental way he had. “I think I just wanted to see you again by myself, and there may not be another way left to do it. I . . . I’m sorry, Nat.”

Nat realized she wanted to believe this was really her Bruce. She wanted their bond to be that strong, that they’d be drawn together like this. She scrutinized him closely again. “Doc? . . . Bruce?”

“I’m here, Nat. I honestly am here.”

She told herself this was just a coping mechanism. Her version of Bruce was probably gone, and the parts of him left were melded together now in a new permanent form, but then she decided to go ahead and roll with it. Maybe she was unconsciously attempting to find closure? “I’m sorry we didn’t have longer before everything with you changed.” They’d never really gotten their chance. Her heart still felt raw and bleeding.

“Me, too,” Bruce said, his voice sounding a little tight in his throat. “I wanted so much for us, Nat. I really did. I’m sorry.”

“I know. I’m sorry too. We should have had more time.” Natasha reached over and took his left hand in hers, relieved that it felt real and familiar as she remembered. She needed an anchor right now. “But, what we had never went away, did it? We still have that connection going for us. I feel it, and we’ll build on it. I like the new guy. I . . . I just don’t want to forget you like this. It’s how I fell in love with you.”

Bruce squeezed her hand, obviously moved, as he placed his other hand on top of hers. He looked away, gathering his thoughts for several heartbeats. “Thanks for understanding, Nat,” he finally said as he looked at her. “I almost gave up on me, but I swear, I never for a minute gave up on you. I’ve always loved you from the very beginning.”

“I know you do. Even when things got bad, you never let your faith in me die. It’s one of the things I love about you, Bruce.” He believed in her and had trusted her long before he trusted the other parts of himself. He’d been her target, her mark, yet he’d seen through all the half-truths and the games to the real her, and still, he managed to trust her, let her inside, and love her more than anyone else ever had. He accepted all of her.

Bruce gave her a soft, appreciative smile. “I guess, in the end, it paid off,” he agreed and squeezed her hands again.

One good thing about dreaming, she decided, was you didn’t need tissues. “Hey, you know what? Sometimes, when I was dreaming in the stasis chamber, I’d swear you were near me. At other times, I was searching for you, and that goal kept me going, helped me focus,” she explained. “When the drugs the Skrull was using on me lost some of their hold, I got so angry that I was finally able to fight back. It was pretty pathetic, but remembering you kept me from giving up.”

He bit the inside of his lips to try and control his reaction to her words; then, he looked up at the blue sky for a few moments, getting his breathing under control, before turning back to her. “I dreamed about you, too. I couldn’t give up. I had some dreams that were a lot like this one. Sometimes, we were able to sit down and talk. Most of the time, as soon as I found you, it seemed that you were pulled beyond my reach—just a moment of recognition to keep me going, just a little taste when I needed more.”

She couldn’t keep from smiling at him. “There were a number of times that I woke up when the Skrull had brought me out of stasis to ask me questions or even just to talk. It was like, for him to accomplish his mission, that meant we couldn’t be together. That’s why he was so horrible to you. Something depended upon us being apart as much as it did him actually accomplishing something.”

“Right.” He leaned closer to her, looking into her eyes. “Like we needed to be separated for the bigger plan to work out,” he noted. “That had occurred to me after Tony told me about Strange using the Time Stone to find the one set of variables for everyone to survive. According to him, it took 14,000,605 tries for everything to work out and everyone to be brought back.”

The exactness of the number almost made it seem plausible to her. Natasha took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “You know, this whole situation, everything that’s happened is so frustrating. Since I woke up this morning, I’ve been wracking my brain for what the fake accomplished that I couldn’t. I can’t quit asking myself, would I be able to make that sacrifice on Vormir?” In a sense, she’d just tried it and been thwarted, but at least she’d been able to make the decision to try, even if Bruce and Hulk had outflanked her. However, the result was still going to haunt her.

Bruce frowned. “I’d like to think you wouldn’t have put yourself in that position, Natasha. There had to have been another way.” This was clearly a sore spot for him.

She shook her head. “Now, don’t just dismiss this. It’s a hypothetical. Let’s play the scenario out. If we’d been together, how would that have changed what happened on Vormir?”

Bruce let go of her hand and leaned back, running his fingers through his dark unruly curls as he thought. “For one, I might have bumped Clint, taken his place during the Time Heist, and gone with you to Vormir instead.”

“How do you think that would have changed the outcome?” she pushed, knowing she’d just imagined how it might have gone. She wanted to know what he thought would have happened.

He puffed out his cheeks and let out a long breath as he thought. “If we couldn’t have figured out a better way between us, I would not have let you die. I. Would. NOT,” Bruce insisted, his voice lowering almost to an intense, Hulkish growl.

Without thinking, she nearly snapped back at Bruce, that he shouldn’t have stopped her, but the expression on his face was every bit as fierce of a look as she’d seen on Hulk’s. In her earlier scenario, Bruce had outmaneuvered her, but he’d been outdone by Hulk. “I’m glad we’ll never know for certain,” she decided. Natasha was sure she’d imagined a failed scenario, whether or not it was one Strange had foreseen or maybe even brought about.

Still feeling agitated, Bruce shook his head. “Look, I get what you’re saying. Over the past week, I’ve run this through my mind many times, too, Nat.” He looked her in the eyes again, “I admit, in the past, I’ve been a little envious of what Clint and you share sometimes. I know it’s petty on my part, but when he came back without you during the Time Heist, all I could think about when I wasn’t focused on putting the Gauntlet together, was how I’d have happily died for you. Inside, I was furious with Clint because he lost you.” Bruce drew his knees up close to his chest and hugged them with both arms. His body language had always been easy for her to read, and now he was obviously feeling upset and torn. “I’m sorry, but that’s how I felt. It’s a good thing the new guy could handle the anger and still stay focused. I’m not sure I would have measured up compared to him on my own. By myself, I think I might have completely broken down.”

Natasha thought it spoke volumes about Bruce that he could admit this now. She also realized ‘the new guy’s’ control was a significant achievement since he’d clearly stayed focused to help build the Tech Gauntlet and taken responsibility for the Snap. She had to admit Bruce had a point, he or Hulk by himself might not have succeeded. “Bruce, it’s really just as well you didn’t get the chance to try and stop me. Who would have worn the Gauntlet if you and Hulk had died on Vormir?” 

His own words echoed back at him, “ _It’s like I was made for this_.” Well, he and Hulk had in a sense made Bruce 2.0 as an improvement on themselves to be the best version of themselves in every way they could anticipate. “I’ll admit your ‘loss’ made wearing the Gauntlet easier for me because I had nothing left to lose. I thought you were gone and my desire to survive was linked to making your sacrifice count. That, and I wanted to try and get you back. Any victory short of returning you was going to be a Pyrrhic one for me . . . for us.”

As she listened to him, it hit Natasha that what she was asking Bruce to do was disentangle himself from what had become his new identity. She’d wanted him to be honest, but it hurt to hear him describe what he’d been through alone and then as part of the amalgam. Her doppelganger had set a self-destructive example. Bruce had tried that suicidal path before she knew him. Natasha didn’t want to imagine him taking it again. Maybe she’d pushed him far enough? Yet, she still had questions. “Have you thought about what might have happened if you and Hulk hadn’t united? Could either of you have brought everyone back with the Gauntlet?”

He stared at his right hand with its scars, flexing it as he responded. “Hulk would have survived the Snap, but he might not have had the single-mindedness necessary to stay focused. It might have sent him on an irradiated rampage that would have made Johannesburg look like a social call. A Snap might have killed me or changed me for the worse as well with all that radiation to fuel an even less stable transformation into who knows what beyond the Hulk we know.”

“I’m trying to imagine Hulk bigger, angrier, and greener,” Nat said. “I don’t think you can get much smarter.”

He responded with a dry laugh. “I don’t know about that.” Thinking back to his experience with the Mind Stone in Loki’s staff, Bruce could imagine it. That deadly whisper had lulled his ego into grabbing hold of the staff in the lab. He could have harnessed that power to . . . “No, Nat, I might have become far more dangerous and unstable than Thanos. United, we kept the command to the Stones focused and simple: _Bring every being destroyed by Thanos’ actions back safely to the present_. I’ll admit I was thinking of the Asgardians as part of it, too, along with other beings he decimated to get the Stones. That was easy enough to hold in my mind. What I added past that was, ‘ _Bring Natasha back to me safe and whole_.’”

“And that’s what burned you almost down to the bone?” She touched the back of his scarred hand.

He cocked an eyebrow and gave her a guilty shrug. “You know I’m stubborn. I tried everything I could envision to get around the prohibitions the Soul Stone threw up to block me. All I got was laughter. Mockery. I guess now we know why.” He sounded quite chagrined. 

She had noted how Bruce was speaking in first person about trying to bring her back when it had been his combined self who had done the Snap. Maybe she’d been wrong. She wondered how fluid his or their identities were. She thought about the Bruce she’d just met today trying to describe the joy of finally being whole. 

Impulsively, Natasha leaned over and kissed his left cheek. It felt as warm and real as his hand, so she didn’t hesitate to reach around him, drawing them together. Bruce turned his head and kissed her back, slipping his left arm around her waist, but then he hesitated, drawing back a bit as if an idea had suddenly slammed into him. She felt his body grow tense in a heartbeat. “Are you okay, Love?”

“What did I do, Nat? What did I do?” There was a hint of panic and then sorrow in his voice as he looked at her. “You may change your mind about wanting to be near me.”

“Why would I do that?”

“The Bruce that you’re with right now in reality, the new guy to you, is a good person. He’s every bit as intelligent as I ever was, but he can hide things from himself, too. It’s a bit like I did when I disassociated, just not as severely.” He wrinkled his brow in thought, “Well, to be fair to him, Hulk and I spared Bruce from some things. He doesn’t have the baggage Hulk and I have always carried. It’s not that he’s exactly naïve, but he’s a cleaner slate and selfless in a way that, honestly, I’m not.”

“Doc, you’re one of the most selfless people I’ve ever known.” She stroked his face, and he took her right hand in his.

“Except when it comes to my ego and not sufficiently weighing the consequences. I put Hulk through hell because I was too wrapped up in my own pain. We tried to protect Bruce from some of those darker possibilities.”

Natasha shook her head. “That’s understandable, but you’re no narcissist.” She felt Tony had earned that title before evolving past it. “I don’t see what’s alarming about that.”

“What I’m trying to say is my desires, what I wanted for us, Nat, may have consequences I didn’t imagine till just now. If that’s the case, I need to shoulder the blame, not the new guy. This won’t be his fault.”

“You’re being really cryptic. Walk me through it. What consequences?” He was starting to worry her.

Bruce averted his gaze from her. “When the blood test results come in, make sure to check the hormonal levels,” he murmured aloud as if he was making a mental note to remind himself.

When he didn’t say anything further, she grew a little impatient. “Spell it out, please. If you’re going to hint at something ominous, don’t leave me just hanging here, Doc.”

“ _Safe and whole_ ,” Bruce blurted as he turned his focus back to her. “That’s how I wished it.” She shook her head. When that didn’t draw a response of recognition from her, he went on. “Think back to when you told me about the Red Room while we were at the Bartons’ farm, Natasha. What’s the one thing you said might have mattered more than a mission? What might have kept you from sacrificing yourself on Vormir?”

Natasha cocked her head and gave him an incredulous stare. “Bruce, we both know that’s not possible. Neither of us could have that happen without medical help or divine intervention.” Neither of them was capable of producing life, even if they both wanted to nurture it. That gift had been taken from them. It didn’t make either of them any less of a person, but it was a cruel reminder of their mistakes or misfortunes.

Bruce didn’t laugh. He took her hands in his. “When I told you I was looking for a place with a big house, and I said I wanted to have a place for a family, we did talk about adoption as a possibility, something to think about in the future. If we’d had five years together, you can’t tell me we wouldn’t have figured something out and acted on it. We both wanted a family. We’d talked about it being a possibility down the road. What if that’s what we did?”

“What are you saying?” 

“Even if we didn’t completely step away from ‘Avenging’ like Pepper and Tony did, what if we adopted or even got lucky somehow? To some degree, we’ve both contemplated having a family together. I’ve seen how you look at the Barton kids. You . . . we both wanted something like what Clint and Laura have, what Pepper and Tony chose to do.” 

“Yes, but . . .” Why was this so hard for her to think about? Natasha heard Madame’s voice, _“You are made of marble. We'll celebrate after the graduation ceremony.”_

“I’m just suggesting, cliché or not, maybe we went for our piece of happiness, and that wasn’t the option that led to a successful Time Heist or a positive return Snap.”

“Are you saying it was one of the millions of options that Strange reported had failed?” 

Bruce looked at her guiltily. “I think it might have been. The odds would favor it happening in a few of those rejected futures.”

This time she was the one rubbing her forehead and feeling frustrated. Was there some version of reality when a family had been in their cards? Had that disqualified her or prevented her from seeing the Time Heist through? Is that why she was the Skrull’s target? “This is making my head swim,” Natasha admitted. Was having a family still a possibility or had they missed their window for the last time? Was this the real sacrifice? 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. It’s really hard to get all of my brain to shut down, and sometimes my mouth is just as bad,” he admitted. Sometimes he hated that about himself.

She gave a snort. “It’s okay.” He had that melancholy look about him again, always ready to shoulder the misery fate seemed to heap on them. “Be honest, am I imagining you, Bruce?” she asked. “Is this really you or am I just putting myself through more heartache?”

His laugh had a slightly bitter edge, “If you are, it’s mutual masochism. Maybe we’re both imagining each other, Nat? I think we’re here because it’s a shared desire, and there are unsettled things between us. I don’t think either of us want to let go, but I don’t know exactly how to hold on now except to keep moving forward. I’m sorry, I know that made very little sense.”

“It’s always been complicated between us,” she admitted. She touched his knee through his jeans. He felt so real and her gut said he was. “Is seeing you alone like this going to be okay or will it cause problems with the rest of your entourage? I don’t want to put you at odds with either of them when you all seem to be getting along.”

“They’re already here. You and I have a little bit of privacy now as a courtesy, but Hulk and the new guy are still just beneath the surface. We don’t withhold information from each other unless it’s necessary. I’m sure talking things out with you isn’t going to be a problem.”

Natasha still felt like they were doing something that she would like to stay between just the two of them, but she knew she needed to get past that. “Will I see you again once this dream is over or will you be gone?”

“When you wake up. You’ll see me in him. I’ll be there. That’s who I am now. I’m not going to be gone.” He reached up and stroked her temple. “I’ll be there when you need me. I promise I didn’t die on you.”

Natasha knew that wasn’t a jab, but it still hurt. She thought about the earlier dream and the sacrifice they’d all three tried to make. “But, aren’t you hiding inside him, using him like a mask?” She immediately regretted saying it, but now she’d finally articulated her worst fear for him, that he’d retreated as far into himself as he possibly could as a mode of self preservation that was more like an exile or suicide.

Bruce looked down at his hands. He wasn’t clenching them; he wasn’t wringing them. He was calm. “No, I don’t think so. Even if the accident had never happened, Hulk has always been a part of me. He saved me from a psychotic breakdown when our mother died.” Bruce looked back up at her. “Nat, I didn’t just choose to move into a bigger body with roommates. I had to accept the trauma from which Hulk protected me. I had to put it into perspective and not blame him for it. That meant putting everything on the table to understand our broken relationship and figure out how to mend it. We couldn’t stay the same and find any kind of fairness or equality. We’d hit our low. We couldn’t function sectioned off from each other anymore. He was in too much mental and physical pain. I couldn’t avoid physically changing in some way with us each tied to our corporeal forms while his was so unstable. It’s amazing he was still sane.”

“I’m sorry to be so blunt when I obviously don’t know all the details about how you came together.” He’d said they were equal partners, but it was hard for her to understand what kind of arrangement they’d reached that could be equitable to them both, yet create an amalgam identity who almost seemed like a third individual to her. It occurred to Natasha that she had yet to hear directly from Hulk. His absence, she realized, had left her feeling uneasy. “What does Hulk think about this? Is he okay with it?”

Bruce chuckled. “Do you remember when you told him to ‘Go be a hero’?”

“Of course. We were in Sokovia, after he jumped us onto the flying city.”

“He took that idea to heart, Natasha. He had to do a lot of growing up on Sakaar, but Hulk is still here, and he has what he most wanted.”

“How do you know? How are you sure?”

“‘Tasha, it’s okay,” a deep voice assured her from behind. She whirled around, finding herself in his shadow as he stood in the grass and flowers beside them. “Sorry to butt in, but maybe I can answer your questions.”

Natasha was already on her feet. “Hulk!” Just seeing him there flooded her with relief. She stood back a few steps and looked at him. She hadn’t seen Hulk since he’d laid her gently on the Helicarrier’s deck then flown the Avengers’ Quinjet off into the unknown after the Battle of Sokovia. Somehow, he looked different. His hair was cropped short like Bruce’s had been when he returned to Earth; yet, he spoke like the Hulk in her earlier dream. What also surprised her was how much his features resembled Bruce’s now that he was calm and not scowling. Thankfully, his grin was the same lopsided one she knew. 

“Miss me?” he asked.

“Yes,” she admitted. Not so many years ago, she couldn’t have honestly said that. “I was afraid you were really gone.” She stepped closer and he kept smiling, offering her his right hand. She touched his outstretched fingers with her own and stepped further into his space. He had the same scarring from the Stones on his hand, but pale jagged lines snaked up his arm to the shoulder. He was wearing a linen kilt and breaches with an embellished silk belt tied at the waist that reminded her of a monk’s garb from some Madripooran temple. 

“Too mean and stubborn to die,” he said with the same shrug Bruce used. 

“I’ll agree with stubborn, but you’re not mean.” His eyes were a shade or two on the greener side of hazel-brown than Banner’s dark eyes. In the daylight, she could see that difference now.

Bruce had gotten to his feet and positioned himself at a neutral distance between the other two and then touched Hulk’s forearm. “You were in a lot of pain, right?” Bruce asked and his alter ego gave an affirmative snort at the understatement. “His body wasn’t stable, Nat. Past a certain point, the mass was borrowed from dark matter. It was a constant struggle on an atomic level to hold together.”

Hulk snorted, “Well, the mean part came from somewhere.”

Natasha looked disturbed by that information. “You’re not in pain now?”

“Not now, but we’re in your head, not the real world.” He was clearly amused by this.

Duh, true enough. She looked at Bruce and back to Hulk, “I knew it hurt you both to transform, but how could you two function on Sakaar for so long.”

Hulk shook his head and gestured to Banner. “You’re the smart one. I just know it hurt all the time, but I sort of got used to it better on Sakaar.”

“Well, the proximity of so many stable Einstein-Rosen Bridges might have had a slight effect on the accessibility or the amount of dark matter available, but I think your ability to stay in control had more to do with mental tolerances, motivation, and plain old stubbornness.”

Hulk laughed. “If it was just mind over matter, I could have come up with that.”

“It’s not like I had a lot of time to gather data, man,” Bruce complained. “There might have been less of a negative charge or more of a positive pull at the atomic level to bind the added mass more securely. I’m sorry, all I can do from here is make a guess, hypothesize a bit. We were in kind of a hurry to leave.”

“I’d take your guess any day, Doc,” she assured him.

“If you’re satisfied that I’m okay, ‘Tasha, I think I’ll be heading back.”

“So soon?”

“Banner is right. We’ll see you in the morning.”

Natasha looked at Bruce and he nodded his agreement. “Are you okay? Are you happy?” she asked Hulk.

“I’m happier than I’ve been since before the accident.”

“You wouldn’t rather be out in the world on your own?” she asked.

Hulk looked quizzically from her to Bruce and then back. “‘Tasha, have you been listening to us? We chose this together: the body and the soul . . .” Hulk laid his left hand on his chest and then touched his temple with his right, “. . . the heart and the mind. We are out in the world together just like we are inside.” Hulk’s oversized verdant index finger delicately traced the side of her face. “Yes, I am _happy_.” She knew from the slight smile and the softened look in his eyes that it was true. “Glad you’re finally home, ‘Tasha,” Hulk concluded.

She blinked and he was gone. Natasha stood there stunned, trying to get her head around what he’d told her and how he’d looked at her. She touched her cheek where he’d softly brushed her face with his finger. Bruce stepped closer and took her hand. He wove his fingers with hers so their palms were pressed together. “Would it make things better if I let you go?” she asked.

He closed his eyes and held his breath a moment before looking back at her again. “It’s up to you, Nat. I want you to be happy and, like you said, build on what we have. Seeing you when we’re sort of alone together is nice, but I’m happy with what we’ll have in reality. I wish I could explain the synergy of it well enough for you to appreciate how we’re interconnected.” He shook his head and grimaced. “But, if you need to start over to move forward, I understand. I won’t bother you again.”

Natasha squeezed his hand and shook her head. “You’re not the kind of guy a girl ever gets over, Doc. This may be selfish on my part, but I think I’m going to hang onto all of you as tight as I can.”

Sighing with relief, Bruce beamed at her again. “Please don’t blame the new guy. He didn’t have a choice about his making. Hulk and I would have needed to find peace and come to some arrangement on a form, no matter what it looked like.”

“To be honest,” she said with a raised eyebrow, “you look pretty damn fine together.”

“Good,” he said with a chuckle. “Hulk insisted on it, but aesthetics are always subjective.”

“Can I ask you one more thing that I wondered about?”

“Of course.”

“What is it with still using the glasses? Yours were just a little stronger than reading glasses because you’re farsighted, so why does the new guy need them? Didn’t you guys fix that, too?”

Bruce shrugged. “I did correct that. He has 20/20 vision, but glasses can be for more than just improving someone’s eyesight. There’s a lot of tech in those frames, and it does give a person something to do with his hands.”

“Is that all?”

He shrugged. “Well, you do know how to change your appearance to suit your target and purpose, so I suppose it’s ‘a look’ and a connection to me as opposed to Hulk. The big green body says one thing, yet the clothing and the glasses kind of balance it out.”

“The reverse of ‘You wouldn’t hit someone with glasses,’” Natasha suggested.

“Right, a guy with glasses won’t smash you.” He paused for a moment to choose his words. “It’s okay to ask him about this sort of stuff. Bruce 2.0 won’t mind.”

“I feel like that’s all I’ve done is ask questions and try to take in information that I’m struggling to process,” Natasha admitted. She wasn’t sure when they’d let go, but Natasha took his hand again, and they held them up together and touched palms, mirroring and stretching out their fingers together before weaving their digits together again. She was going to miss this small intimacy and others. “He has to feel a little lost, too.”

“He does. We all do, but there is a certain pleasure in getting to know each other again. No one really likes unexpected changes, especially big changes, but this is going to work, Nat. A pleasant surprise here and there doesn’t hurt. There’s more that’s familiar than not.”

Natasha realized she felt very tired. “I miss you so much. Please just hold me.” Bruce stepped closer and wrapped his arms around her. “Some tough professional I’ve turned out to be,” Natasha grumbled as she rested her head in the crook of his shoulder. 

Bruce stroked her back as he held her. “Nat, you’re more than that. You’re not just some two-dimensional badass caricature. You don’t have to be the stone-cold assassin twenty-four/seven. It’s safe to be more now. It’s okay to want more for yourself.”

“I wanted it with you.” That sounded so petulant and pathetic to her, but it was true. Why the hell did things have to happen this way? It was like some malevolent force was manipulating them and doubling down on the misfortune. This wasn’t even the Stones, it was something beyond that.

He kissed a tear she hadn’t realized had leaked out. “We’ll have it. Trust me on this. We’re going to have what we wished for and more.”

“You can’t guarantee that, Doc.”

Bruce leaned back far enough to look her in the eye. She thought he knew something, but held back and didn’t say it aloud, as if he might jinx it. “No, but I’m betting everything on us. You with me, Nat?”

“All in?”

“All in.”

“I’m such a sucker for a guy with glasses.”

“Ah, there’s another reason to keep wearing them.”

“Shut up and hold me, Banner.” He was only too happy to comply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My gratitude to Autumn_Froste for the beta read. Thank you all for patiently sticking with me and the story. My, how much the world has changed in six months. I hope everyone has stayed safe and healthy.
> 
> The academic book chapter on Harry Potter fandom is written, and I'll be done with the editing this week (I hope). Wish me luck and cross your fingers Jo Rowling keeps off the rants so I don't need to cover them! 
> 
> Natasha’s first dream is one of the “fix-it” ideas I had early on last year after Endlame, but I wasn’t sure if I had enough to make it a story on its own. Inserting it here felt better than spinning it off, so Halloween has had to wait till next time.
> 
> I have about two more chapters roughed out and I think it may take a few more parts than the planned 20 to finish up. We shall see! I will be back to writing Special Needs after that. I am not going to jinx anything by promising a date because it always slips past.
> 
> Comments, questions, and commiseration are always welcome! Please give a like, a follow, a kudo, a review, a share, a tweet, and tell your friends to give it a read!
> 
> If you'd like to see the cover edits for each part, check out my Pinterest board or the Brutasha Nation or Hulk & Associates page on Facebook. This collage includes flowers, a Hulk edit, and everyone's favorite Cap villain.
> 
> Next up: Part 18, It’s finally Halloween, and Nat meets more of the people with whom Bruce has surrounded himself and explore the place before the trick-o’-treating hordes descend. What has she gotten herself into? You never know who might show up.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my Beta-gals and coconspirators, Autumn_Froste and EmilyGrace13, who've put up with a ton of ranting over the past three months since our version of the MCU came to an inglorious, OOC end. 
> 
> This is my attempt to make some sense out of all the missing, neglected, nerfed, and misused parts that should have been Banner and Hulk's story arc that we didn't get and the blossoming of Natasha and Bruce's canon romance and relationship with all the happiness they absolutely deserve. I am still fuming mad about what was done so callously and unjustly to both Natasha and Bruce (and Tony and Thor) in Endgame. I may not be able to fix the whole MCU, but we will have Justice for Natasha and Bruce/Hulk here. I'm going to try and post on a weekly basis till it's done. Cross your fingers!
> 
> If you'd like to see the cover edits for each chapter, check out my Pinterest board: https://www.pinterest.com/borahrs/my-bruce-x-natasha-edits/fanfiction/
> 
> Comments, questions, and commiseration are always welcome! Please give a like, a follow, a kudo, a review, and tell your friends to give it a read!


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